


Please Don't Bite

by CandyDani



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Daddy remus, F/M, Family, Family Feels, OC, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyDani/pseuds/CandyDani
Summary: Only 4 years after the devastating battle at Godric's Hollow, a small child pops up into a Mr. Remus Lupin's life. Dropped upon his very doorstep, bleeding and bitten, he has no choice but to take in this small pup.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/OC/George Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 86





	1. She lost the game

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this once on Fanfiction.net, but it's been a while since then, and I've had some time with quarantine to go back and edit this, and make it something I want to continue. Enjoy!

It was another peaceful night. Nothing to be heard but the soft chirps from the crickets outside, and the occasional call from the nocturnal birds of the forest. Inside a dark, damp cabin, just outside the woods, there came some shuffling, before settling down once again.

The night grew on, the frogs soon joining in on the song that the crickets were playing. Soon the sun would rise, and the song shall cease, so they sang while they could.

Then, through the dark trees and foliage, there came rapid footsteps, the leaves crunching underneath the feet of the intruder. Quickening, the footsteps came closer towards the cabin, but then, it stopped.

Through the quiet peaceful night, a scream pierced the air, wakening the forest and the creature within the cabin. The shuffling in the cabin began once again, except this time, coming closer to the window.

A dark figure stood in front of the glass, jerking its head around, looking for movement within the forest. After a few moments, it disappeared, returning to its spot from before. It seemed the source of the sound had gone, and the night continued. The creatures of the night continued their sweet song, as the creatures scurried across the wet, sticky, ground. Neither noticing the small creature that laid among the leaves and grass.

Morning soon came, a bright orange lighting up the sky, and everything within the area. The birds sang happily as they left their nests to find their morning breakfast. The door to the cabin soon swung open, and the figure in the doorway revealed itself to the morning light. He was a tall, lanky kind of man, his skin deathly pale.

Looking around, he took a step out, raising a hand to brush the sandy brown hair out of his eyes. Taking another step, he paused, opening his eyes fully as he caught sight of the edge of the forest. Just between the two oak trees laid a figure, non-moving and covered in something red. Quickly rushing over, he realized that the figure was too small to be an adult, and in that moment he felt as if his heart had dropped.

Laying below him was a child, limp and bleeding from what looked to be an injury on their shoulder. Covering his mouth, he stumbled over to a clearing and threw up the contents of his stomach, and everything he had the day before. Once he had been unable to release anymore, he took a deep breath and decided his next course of action. Stumbling over to the small child, he picked them up, trying not to cry as the child flopped about like a ragdoll. No, he mustn’t let his emotions get ahead of him. He would not focus on the stickiness of the child's skin, nor how light they were in his arms. Instead he would focus on the small raise of the chest that he would see every few seconds, the small heartbeat that he could hear with what senses he had left from the night before. 

Kicking the door shut behind him with his foot, he rushed over to the dusty old loveseat and placed the child on there, being careful not to touch the wound on their shoulder. Once the child was situated, he started patting himself down frantically, quickly shoving his shaking hands in his pockets before letting out a sound of victory as he took out a long wooden stick.  
Lowering himself onto his knees, he pointed the wood at the small thing, "Scourgify." The dried blood and leaves disappeared, revealing what he could only assume was a small girl. Moving over to the wound, his eyes widened with recognition as he saw the angry raised flesh was in the shape of a bite. Quickly standing up, he pointed his wand in the air, "Expecto Patronum."

A silvery white light soon came out and danced around the man playfully, but he kept his face stern, "Dumbledore, please come, we have a problem." The light gave a jump and took off out of the cabin and into the sky, off into the search of the receiver. Turning back around to the girl, he let out a shaky sigh, "Okay..okay..we need silver and dittany.." Taking in another breath, he rushed over to the cabinets, moving around the objects inside before taking out two jars. With a clatter, he dropped them on the counter and dragged over stone mortar that lay before him.

Opening the first jar, he poured in the powdered silver, not bothering to stop and see how pretty it shimmered in the dim light. Grabbing the next jar, he poured in the dittany, making sure it was proper measurements. With a quick glance to the figure on the couch, he picked up the pestle and started mixing them together, holding the mortar in his hand. Once the consistency was what he wanted, he headed over to the young girl. Taking a scoopful in his hand, he began applying it to the wound, watching it begin to heal up before his eyes. Once the wound was fully covered, he placed the mortar on the table and began looking her over for any more injuries. He noticed a few scars and decided to bide his time healing them, waving the wooden stick over them and whispering, "Episky."

Soon, the young girl was all healed up and he began to notice her breathing steadying, and with that, his did too. With the sound of a pop, he looked up and saw an aged old man standing behind the couch, "Dumbledore.."

Dumbledore looked from the panicked young man to the source of the panic, his face turning sullen, "Oh dear..seems we do have a problem..eh Lupin?"

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Mommy! Daddy!" She whimpered out, her voice breaking as she heard the sharp screams of her mother. Curling her small body up, she lifted her head and cautiously looked around her room from the small gap of the closet doors. She could see the shadows of her stuffed animals in the dim pink light, her favorite teddy laying on the edge of her bed, right where she left it.

Footsteps were coming closer to her bedroom door, and her hands fumbled to cover her mouth. The thudding soon came to a stop, and a loud sniff came from just outside the door. She tried her best to not to make a sound, worried that whatever the monster was, it could smell her fear. Closing her eyes, she tried to take small breaths, listening carefully for any sound, anything that could give her a sense of safety. 

Her bedroom door began to creep open, her eyes forcing themselves open, leaning over to look through the crack once again. But, nothing was there. Looking over at the door, she was surpised to see that it was closed. Was it just her imagination?

"There, there little one.." A deep voice purred, followed by a thud just outside her closet. Her body stiffened up as she heard him, a cold chill running down her spine as she finally caught sight of the dark figure at her bed. She watched as it picked up her teddy and brought it up to where it’s face would be, taking in a deep sniff. She was reminded of her Daddy’s old hunting dog, it used to sniff things too, before it would.. 

"I know you're here. Come out, come out, wherever you are.." He teased in a singing tone, looking directly towards the small white closet. She watched as the monsters face screwed up into a twisted smile, his beady black eyes glinting in the dim light, seemingly staring into the small crack and looking directly at her. He couldn't see her, could he? It wasn't possible. With childlike curiousity, she wanted to test it, so she raised her hand, slowly moving it into a wave. The monster remained still, still grinning and staring, until..he raised his hand. Fearfully she grabbed the blanket around her and pulled it over her head.  
The thudding was coming closer. She recoiled further in the small space, flinching each time she felt the vibration from the floorboards. She refused to look, she didn't want to see, this was all going to be just a dream. Then when she woke up, she was going to see her mommy and daddy again. And they were going-

She felt the cold air rush past her shoulders as the doors to the closet were ripped open. Grabbing the edge of the blanket, she slowly peeled it off her head, shivering as she looked up. She wished she hadn’t looked. 

"Hello there, little one." The Monster crooned, staring down at her with glee. Before she could say anything, he reached out and grabbed her tiny wrist, jerking her up to her feet. As the blanket fell from her, she tried to grab it, but no luck. The monster held her wrist in his secure grip, staring down at her with a strange look of hunger in his eyes. "Scrawny little thing, aren't you? I usually prefer my meals to have a little meat on their bones." He taunted, licking his lips as she dangled from his grasp.

"P..Please sir..please let me go!" She pleaded, her small hand trying to get her wrist released from his hold. Ignoring her cries, he lifted the toddler up higher, pressing his nose to the crook of her neck. She began to tremble as his hot breath blew on her ear, the prickly hairs on his face scratching her skin. "You want to be let go? But little prey, we've barely.." He paused in his speech, something outside catching his attention.

The young girl let out a yelp as she was dropped to the ground, looking up at the man in fear as his face lit up with glee. "Very well, prey, let's play a game. You run, and if I catch you.." He trailed off as the bright moonlight falling upon him, and she immediately caught on. It was just like the chasing game the old hunting dog would play. But she was bigger than a rabbit, she hoped she could run just as fast. she leapt to her feet, taking off out the room as he began to transform, a loud howl tearing through the house and echoing into the night.

She couldn't remember how long it had been; all she had done was run, not looking where she was going. She had tried to take a break a while back and the sight of the beast tearing into the tree that she had been at was enough to make her quiet that idea. But she could only run for so long. Her legs were growing tired. Her throat was so dry from screaming. Her body lacked the energy to keep going.

Then, at that moment, there was flash of light in her vision. Finally coming to a stop, she saw the dark cabin in the distance. Her mother always taught her not to talk to strangers, but she was already in danger, she was sure her mom would understand. But, her mother wasn’t able to disapprove anymore, would she? She was gone. She shook the tears away, she needed to focus on her main adjective. She had to get help. There was no choice.

Taking another step, she felt her nightshirt being snatched from behind and a burning pain in her shoulder. Letting out a pain wrenched scream, she turned to see the beady red eyes of the beast staring sadistically into hers as he tore his teeth into her skin. She could feel the hot blood dripping down her chest, her shoulder sharply stinging which each time he clamped his jaw over and over on the flesh. This wasn’t a quick mercy. He was doing this just to hurt her, to draw it out. Soon her body began to feel numb, her cries dying down. He pulled away, being sure to drag his teeth across the flesh one last time. Releasing her from his grasp, her limp body slammed lifelessly onto the ground. She lost the game.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

What was that sound? It was so loud. It felt like drums in her ears. She squeezed her eyes a bit tighter, breathing in slowly. She could hear the increasing beat of her heart, a muffled voice joining in faintly from above her. She tried to open her eyes, but she just couldn't. She didn’t have the strength in her. The beating in her ears subsiding, the voice coming in a bit clearer, she recognized it to be a man. Wait, there was another voice, two men. Squeezing her right hand into a weak fist, she felt her heartbeat pick up as she began to drift closer to the sound. Taking in another breath, she managed to tighten her left fist next.

"-take her!"

"She needs-…I trust you."

"No not me…"

She tried her eyes again, managing to crack them open a tiny bit before being blinded by the bright light.

"She'll be outcast, cursed.."

"It's too late for that, Remus."

Focusing, she realized that they were both on either side of her, the one on her left sounded like a nice old grandpa, while the one on her right was scared, his voice was so shakey. The one on the right let out a sigh, and some shuffling came from him.

"Doesn't she-…..any family?'

"No, I went to the-…it seems her parents were the victims of Fen-…."

Furrowing her brow, she got upset as she couldn't hear the whole conversation. She always hated being left out. Breathing in, she tried to move her feet, only managing to wiggle a toe. It felt like her whole body was asleep, and it probably was, and maybe she should too. Giving in to the tired feeling, she drifted out, only catching the end of the younger one's sentence.

"-I'll raise her.."


	2. Do you have a name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Wow! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this! I've played around with this story before, but it took a few more years of writing to actually get this right! Hope you enjoy this next chapter I've gotten for you!

"Do you have a name?"

Remus watched as the young pup fiddled with the sheets, keeping her eyes anywhere but him. She was scared, he knew that. It will take a while for them to build trust, but then again, they had all the time in the world.

Once he had realized she wasn't going to say anything, he decided to get up, it was close to tea time and she will need to eat something to bring her energy back up. He knew even without a full transformation, her body could still be feeling the effects from the moon. Giving her an awkward smile, he shuffled out of the room and towards the kitchen. His ears picked up a rustle from the room he just left, and soon after, the soft padding of feet following him. Opening the fridge, he looked around the inside, trying to figure out what to make for the young thing.

Hearing the sounds come to a stop behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, seeing the girl standing by fridge, her gaze downward at the floor. Tilting his head confused, he turned back to the fridge, looking through it once again, "Ah here we are." He reached in and grabbed the jam, standing back up and closing the fridge. Turning around, he headed over to the cabinets to find the peanut butter.

The sounds continued again, following after him. A smile began to spread on his lips, taking the jar and placing it on the counter, "Are you allergic to peanuts?" He waited a moment, but there was no response. Of course that didn't work. He’s already figured he probably won’t get a verbal response out of her for a while. He turned around to her, looking to see if perhaps she was shaking her head. 

She stood there still as a statue, her eyes locked on the floor. Leaning his hips onto the countertop, he observed her for a moment, they needed a form of communication with the other. Even if she didn’t speak. Bringing the jar down to her height, he saw her look through the bangs covering her eyes. Speaking softly, “Could you tap the jar with your hands if you would like it?” He asked, waiting patiently to see if she’d follow his request. 

It was only a few seconds, but to him, it felt like an hour. He began to worry that he requested too much of her. He didn’t even know her age, he imagined she had to be around 6 or 7. He knew he’d have to get her officially checked out by Poppy, Dumbledore had already ordered it, but only once she felt comfortable to go.

His thoughts were cut off by her brushing past him to tap the jar of jam behind him, the glass sliding a bit on the counter. She did it, she followed what he said. He reached for the bread, popping the peanut butter back into the cupboard, “Okay, got it, so no peanuts.” He had to admit, she was pretty cute. And now they had a form of communication, sort of. Opening the jam, he decided to try something else. For curiosities sake. "Could you bring me a butter knife please? It's the drawer on the right." He asked, using a kind tone.

Remus heard the sound of a drawers opening, the clattering of silverware, and the soft pattering soon returned. He didn’t turn, he waited. He knew she could already communicate. But he wanted to see where her boundaries were, how she could get his attention if he can’t see her. However, he was caught off guard when instead of a tap, there was instead a tug on his sweater.

He said nothing though, looking down as she held the butter knife out to him, her gaze on the wall opposite to them. Reaching, he took the knife carefully, "Thank you.." He drawled off, hoping for her to give him her name. But all he got was a nod, and then just silence. Well, he wouldn’t push it. They’ve already gotten so far, he didn’t want her to retreat back into herself. Turning back around, he began making the sandwich.

Once he finished, he grabbed a napkin and took the plate over to the table, knowing she would already be following closely behind. Placing the plate down with a soft clatter, he pulled out a chair for her, stepping back so she could get in. The sunlight was streaming through the windows of the cabin, allowing him to get a full view of her. She was very small, Dumbledore had transfigured her shredded clothes into a simple sleep set. His lips quirked up as he noticed the little lions that decorated them, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it perhaps was a copy of something Dumbledore himself wore. He could imagine the old headmaster in Gryffindor pajamas. 

His smile fell rather quickly though when he caught the white bandages that poked out from under the sleep shirt. Focusing on something else, he looked towards her face, mainly her eyes. They were locked onto the chair, looking as if she just zoned out, but something in his instincts told him that she wasn’t. She was analyzing. He didn’t think that she’d start getting wolfish tendencies until her first turn, but being a child who just went through a traumatic event, he could understand her being cautious.  
Right now, it could seem like everything was out to get her, even just a chair. Turning around, as he grabbed some glasses from the cupboards, there was a squeaky scraping sound behind him. She must have decided it was safe. Pouring some milk into the glasses, he headed over to her place at the table, her face no longer in view, obscured by her hair.

He placed the glass down beside the plate, it only making a soft thud on the wood, "There you are." Reaching out with her tiny hands, she picked it up and lifted it up to her mouth to take an eager sip. Remus watched her, a smile making its way on his face, enjoying that he learned another thing she liked. Heading back into the kitchen area, he decided to make a sandwich of his one. Perhaps if he wasn't watching, she'd eat.

Taking another few slices of bread, he began to spread the jam slowly onto the bread. Unable to resist, he quickly glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see her taking small bites of her sandwich. Once he finished making his, he turned back around to see her plate and glass was empty, "Did..you eat it all?" She tapped the table once, he supposed that meant yes. Walking over to join her, he heard her stomach growl, "Want another?" She hesitated for a moment before giving another tap on the table. He placed his plate in front of her, "Here you go, I'll get you some more milk."

Standing up, he went over to the fridge. Opening the door, he grabbed the milk carton and spun back around to find her sitting there, her plate empty. Raising an eyebrow, he headed over, uncapping the milk and pouring it into her glass, "Still hungry?" This time he was rewarded with her shaking her head. She reached out for the full glass, chugging it down in large gulps. Once the milk was empty, she placed it on the table and let out a soft content sigh. He felt his heart swell, she wasn’t just kinda cute, she was adorable.

Placing the milk carton on the table just in case, he noticed that her face was covered in crumbs and jam. Amused, he didn’t think what he was doing as he took the napkin and reached forward, gently wiping the mess off her face. As he did, her eyes had begun to slowly make their way up to him, staring at him with curiosity and wonder. It was then, as he looked back, it finally hit them that he could actually see her face. More importantly, two beautiful orbs of amber, shining almost like gold as they hit the light. Just like his. 

The way she looked at him set his fate in stone, curiosity was normal to see in a child’s eyes, but hers were also filled with trust. He felt his eyes begin to water as he realized the responsibility he now held, he had to do everything in his power to make sure she grew up feeling safe and nurtured. He already lost so many people in his life, he could not lose her. This sudden possession that overwhelmed his chest only magnified, as if the wolf inside agreed. After a moment, Remus broke the eye contact, "Do you want some more milk?"

"Cyra.."

Looking back over at her quickly, he stumbled over his own words before he managed to choke out, "W-What did you say?" She just picked up her glass, holding out for him, "I'm Cyra." Her voice was so small, as if it might shatter if she spoke any louder. But that did not stop the grin that spread on his face as he took the glass, "Well, hello Cyra. I am Remus." 

He uncapped the carton once again, wondering to himself if he should just leave it open, "Hello Remus” The small pup answered back, a bit more confidence now. He popped her glass back in front of her, giving her a wink, “Hello Cyra. Welcome home.”


	3. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! I really enjoy reading your comments! I hope you like this next one!

The next two days were fairly normal between the two, or perhaps as normal as two strangers living together could be. Since the first time she spoke to him, Remus had managed to get more sentences out of her, but only for the things she desired. She was a very polite child though, always said, ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. It was clear to him that she had a rather nice upbringing, he was unsure if he could compete with it. But it wasn’t like they had a choice, she could not return to the world she knew, and neither could he.

He didn’t mind though, he found her presence much more comforting than others. It reminded him of his Marauder years, before everything went to hell. She didn’t complain, either, he felt relieved when she began to learn every nook and cranny of the shabby little cabin he called a home. He knew he would eventually have to break her out of this safe space so they could get her checked up. Remus just didn’t have the heart to do it though.  
He really should have taken her before, Dumbledore had told him the moment Cyra had felt comfortable, which he knew she might not be now. 

So he delayed it. He didn’t want to lose all the progress he earned with her. But something had to be done; he had noticed the little scratches she did over her bandages. It could get infected if he didn’t take her to Pomfrey. He knew basic healing, but her body had gone through so much more. His stomach turned at the grotesque memory of the marred flesh that decorated her body. That monster had done everything in his power to make her feel pain. Her shoulder was nearly torn to pieces by the bite; he couldn’t understand how she survived it long enough for him to find her. It was like her body was a piece of meat, torn and shredded apart, probably after she passed out from blood loss. If he didn’t think she’d die from it, then the sick son of a bitch did it on purpose so she’d forever live with his mutilations. 

Feeling himself getting worked up, he quickly took in a shaking breath, gripping the sides of the armchair he rested in. He’s always despised Greyback for how he cursed him when he was a child, but now, he was filled with nothing but hatred. He used to think when he was younger, if he ever saw the Werewolf on the battlefield; he would do everything in his power to send him to Azkaban. That was the wizard way, using a proper duel, standing alongside justice. But now, he craved blood. He wanted Greyback’s head; mutilate him the way he did this poor child, and show him true pain. 

His violent thoughts were silenced as Cyra came into the room, carrying a small book with her. He slowly released his fingers grip from the leather, the imprint of his nails cut into it. She said nothing, going over to the couch and plopping herself down. He had transfigured some of his own night clothes to fit her, though it was rather adorable seeing her in a band tee that she’s probably never even heard of. He didn’t even know what kind of music she enjoyed. 

Cyra didn’t say much about herself, but he didn’t really expect much after only two days. Which brought him back around to the point of this inner monologue; he needed to take her to Pomfrey to get checked out. The only thing was convincing her to leave the house. He waited to see if she would say anything in the now very awkward silence that perhaps only he really felt. ‘But alas, nothing,’ he thought with a wry smile. 

Deciding it was time to just get it over with, he cleared his throat, the sound quickly gaining her attention as her eyes left the pages in a flash, locking onto him with an intensity that almost made him forget what he was going to say. She was still jumpy, loud sounds sending her into alert. He learned that the first time he accidently knocked a chair over, the poor thing couldn’t be found for a solid 20 minutes. She’d locked herself into the bathroom, curled up in the corner; it had taken him quite a while to coax her out. He learnt treats were the best motivation, though he admitted it felt a bit silly, goading her like a small puppy. 

He waited till her shoulders lost the tension, realizing there was no danger and instead just watching him. Leaning forward in the chair, he placed his hands on his knees, looking at her with an open smile. He hoped it would calm her for what he would be doing next. “Cyra” He began, “I’m very glad you are settling in well, but we do need to get you checked out.” She didn’t seem to be upset quite yet, simply waiting, her book put to the side so he had her full attention. 

“Now, I have a very good friend who has offered us a place that would be safe and hidden so you can get a proper examination.” Remus put the most pressure on the words he knew she would focus on, and he was right. She was not rejecting the idea, her left hand coming to once again scratch at the outside of the bandages. He tried not to focus on them too much, continuing, “He’s the Headmaster of a School I once went to. Very powerful, and will do everything in his power to make sure you are treated well. So do you feel up to taking that little trip with me today?” 

That was it, today. Her eyes widened, panic beginning to enter them, and he began to worry that he would have to do some damage control. But then, it was gone. She gave a silent nod, sliding down from the couch and taking her book from the cushions. He watched as she clutched it to her chest, looking at the floor with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “Can I bring my book?” Cyra asked politely, quickly adding in, “Please?” 

Remus sighed with relief, standing up and stretching out his old joints, “Why, of course you can Cyra. Let me quickly write a letter to my friend, and we’ll travel over in the floo.” That was another thing, the floo. He didn’t quite yet know if she was a muggle or wizard-raised child. Either way, he would still take care of her, but that was why he needed to get her examined. Pomfrey would tell him everything he needed to know. Including diet, he didn’t think the little thing should survive off of jam sandwiches for the rest of her life. 

One who didn’t understand his situation may wonder why he didn’t just ask Cyra, but the most answers he’s gotten from said child was, “Mm.” As if she was still thinking about her answer. He figured her parents must have taken care of everything, so she was none the wiser. He could only observe her and get his answers from her actions.   
Once he had sent off the letter, he took some time to get dressed in some warmer clothes, he knew how chilly it could be in the castle. Shrinking one of his old jumpers to Cyra size, he carried it out to her, handing it over to her. Once the soft material was in her hands, she slipped her little head through, messy brown curls popping out first. He smiled to himself as he gathered his things, stepping to the fireplace to ready the floo powder. 

Remembering to grab her book, she was by his side in an instant, letting him take her hand and lead her in. He waited for her to react, it wasn’t exactly normal for one to step into fire, but Cyra simply just held onto her book as if scared she’d lose it. Taking that as a sign she was okay, he threw the powder beneath them, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”   
As the flames ignited around them in chartreuse green, flickering around their bodies, they disappeared from the residence. Within the blink of an eye, there were in a brightly decorated room, odd trinkets ornamenting the walls, encased in thick glass. He felt the tight squeeze on his hand and looked down at his charge, though she did not return the gaze, her attention was on something, or rather someone else.

“Ah, Mr. Lupin!” Dumbledore’s voice broke through the silence, coming towards them with open arms and twinkle in his eyes. His robes were decorated with bright golden stars, shimmering as he moved in the light from the windows. “I had been wondering when I might see you and the little one, you sure took your time.” The Head reminded him, in which he had to fight the urge to hang his head in shame. 

Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the floo, carefully tugging Cyra along, “Yes well, I wanted to be sure she was comfortable before we did. I didn’t want to scare her with all of these new elements.” He was waved off though, the wizard turning around towards the doors and silently leading them out. He followed, as did Cyra, though she seemed to be stuck to his hip like glue, only stepping when he did. 

However, her eyes wandered, observing the moving portraits in the hall as they passed them. If any had caught the little one’s curious stares, they simply gave her a wink and a smile before moving on. Before they knew it, they arrived at the infirmary’s doors. Dumbledore pushed them open with a creak before gliding inside, announcing to Pomfrey that her patient had arrived.   
It wasn’t as bad as Remus was expecting, Madam Pomfrey had taken her time allowing Cyra to warm up to her presence, simply doing some basic checkups on her reflexes and hearing. She seemed to have a way with children that he himself did not possess; it was as if she never felt an awkward moment with the quiet child. Even Cyra seemed to be amused by her, he could swear he saw her smile when Pomfrey tugged her ear to check for ‘stretchability’. 

But then, it came, the moment where Pomfrey would have to undress the wrappings on her and assess the real damage. He saw the joy slip from Cyra’s face, her hands clutching the jumper he had given her, the room grew tense very quickly. Dumbledore took that moment to step out, giving him an opening to do so as well if he wished, but he wanted to stay. He refused to leave Cyra to face this alone.   
With his presence, she allowed Pomfrey to lift the jumper, next the shirt underneath. Next thing he knew, she was exposed and shaking, her whole upper body covered in the cloth bandages. Without thinking, he walked over and took her hand in his, trying to offer her as much comfort as he could provide. 

Madam Pomfrey gave him a worried look before she began unwinding the bandages, each turn making his heart race faster. She was so young, too young for this to have happened to her. Though he knew he was much younger than her when he was bitten, he at least had his parents to help him through it. She had no one, well, except for him. He understood now why Dumbledore left her in his care, the Head may be old, but he was clever among his years. 

Remus was alone, left behind in grief as he lost everything he once knew in one fateful night. His family was either dead or in Azkaban, rotting in a cell for the rest of their traitorous life. She had everything ripped from her in one night, turned into a dark creature that she wouldn’t understand, but he did. Dumbledore put them together for a reason, his calculations proving to be correct. They needed each other, and with such a strong connection already forming, he could only presume that Moony would see her as his own, adopt her into the pack. If she fell into anyone else’s hands, she would be exiled, slandered by both worlds as a monster. He wouldn’t let that happen, he refused for her to live a life of misery because of something she couldn’t control.   
He watched the last of the binding leave her body, angry raised flesh coming into clear view. Pomfrey’s face turned grim as her eyes examined over every inch of the girl. Cyra was trembling like a leaf, her eyes remaining locked onto the curtains that hid her away from the world, as if she was scared they would be pulled open. 

Her body was a mangled mess, not an inch of her was left without a scar, the bite on her shoulder was deep, and you could still see the puncture wounds. “I’ll get the murtlap essence..” Pomfrey trailed off before rushing out, shutting the curtains quickly behind her. Cyra looked towards where she left, before she allowed her head to tilt down, attempting to look but was stopped by Remus grabbing ahold of her chin. “Don’t look. If you look at your own injury, it might hurt worse.” He tipped her chin back up, stepping in front of her with a reassuring smile, “You’re healing great, don’t worry about it.” She didn’t seem to believe him, but she didn’t look back down again, just keeping her eyes on him until Pomfrey returned, pushing a cart of potions and a jar of yellow slime. 

The matron gave her a smile before popping open the top of the jar, “Right dear, this should help sooth some of the itching.” She popped a brush into the jar, gathering some slime into the bristles before starting to paint the scars on her back with them. Cyra jerked away, crying out in a croaky voice, “Cold!” It was the first time he had ever heard her raise her voice, freezing in place, Pomfrey doing just the same. 

“Oh my! So she can speak! Well dear, I am sorry to say but I couldn’t warm it up for your comfort. Just relax for me and it’ll be over soon!” She chided, before going right back to painting the wounds with no warning for the girl. Cyra looked embarrassed, refusing to meet Remus’s eyes now, so she couldn’t see the amused grin forming on his face. 

At the very end, Cyra was pouting and shivering, her eyes narrowing at Pomfrey as she was wrapped back up in her bandages. The matron didn’t seem to notice, finishing up her work before handing back her shirt, “Alright dear, pop this on, and we can continue our examination.” Cyra’s brows furrowed, slipping her shirt back on before turning to Remus worried, her eyes saying, ‘There’s more?!’ He just smiled back, giving her a gentle pat on the head. 

Knowing she was getting nothing from him, her head whipped back around to the matron, fear striking as she saw the needle that was being held. Pomfrey tutted at as the girl resisted all attempts to give her hand, “Now dear, it’ll be just a prick. I just need a wee bit of blood from you, you won’t even feel it!” Cyra kept whipping her hands all around, more alive than he’s ever seen her, she had reached fight or flight at this point. Pomfrey simply couldn’t keep up with the wily girl, giving an annoyed huff before she whipped out her wand, “Immobulus!”  
The moment the words left her mouth, Cyra was frozen in place, stuck in the position of her arms in midair. Giving a delighted hum, she quickly pricked her finger, collecting the drop in the vial before cleaning the area quickly. Remus tried not to laugh as Dumbledore chimed in, “Poppy, I didn’t hear you casting a charm upon that young girl, did I?” You could hear the laughter in his voice, obviously finding this whole situation very amusing. 

“It was either that or end up accidently pricking an artery, Albus!” The matron replied with no shame, cleaning up her tray before releasing the girl from the spell. The moment she came to, she pulled her hands to her chest protectively, glaring at the woman with distrust. Pomfrey said nothing, waving her wand over the vial, “Now then! Let’s see here!” She muttered at incantation that Remus didn’t recognize, a list forming in golden script above the vial. Cyra watched in wonder as words appeared, seeing her own name being written in beautiful cursive, ‘Cyra Owens’

“Owens? That is a muggle name, is it not?” Remus inquired. Pomfrey gave him a swift nod before reading through, “Her father was a muggle, by the name of Rupert Owens. Mother would be a halfblood, maiden name Mira Lyrons.” Outside the curtains, Dumbledore made a noise, “Ah..Ms. Lyrons. She graduated a few years before you, Lupin. Hufflepuff, and brilliant at Divination, she was.” Remus wracked his brain for a Lyrons, but nothing was coming to mind. Then again, he and his friends never paid much mind to the Hufflepuffs. 

Pomfrey examined through the list, ignoring the men, “Dear, you were born on August 23rd 1978, correct?” Cyra gave her a quick nod, trying her best to read the words on the list, though it was backwards to her. Remus quickly tried to do the math, that meant she was turning 7 years old soon, he still had a few months to plan. She may not want a birthday party, he didn’t know her that well yet, but what 6 year old didn’t? 

Pomfrey wrote a few things down before diminishing the list, placing her notebook to the side, “Right then! Next is some potions to help speed up recovery! I’ll have you running around Lupin in no time!” She corked the first vial and passed it over to Cyra, who took it with a frown, “Drink up!” Cyra refused, looking towards Remus for help. He almost caved because of how wide her little eyes were, but he gathered the strength to shake his head, “It won’t harm you. Just a quick swallow and it’ll be all over with.” Cyra’s gaze went back to Pomfrey’s wand, considering her options before she put the vial to her lips and dunked it back. She swallowed as quickly as possible, giving a gag after she finished.   
“Wonderful job, dear! Now only four more to go!” Pomfrey cheered, turning to grab the next one. Cyra’s eyes widened with doom, her lips pressing together tightly. It was as if this checkup would never end. He sat through her torture, trying not to laugh as each potion seemed to get worse tasting than the last. After it was all over, he went over to rub her back, comforting her as she moped, “I know. I’m sorry I let her do that to you. She scares me too, I tried my best to gain the courage, but alas..” 

Dumbledore walked in, observing the pair with those twinkling eyes of his, waiting for a proper moment to speak, “Poppy is writing down a list of Ms. Cyra’s allergies, and also the potions she’ll be needing to take while at home. I managed to convince her to perhaps flavor them to save our dear friend’s tastebuds.” Cyra moved her tongue around in her mouth, grimacing as if she could still taste them. 

“Thank you Headmaster, I really appreciate your help.” Remus gratefully thanked him, but he was stopped by Dumbledore’s raised hand, “No need to thank me. You are doing a wonderful thing, taking in this little one. Besides, what is that phase Muggles use? It takes a village to raise a child? Well, here you have Hogwarts.” Remus furrowed his brows, staring at him in confusion, “I don’t..understand. What do you mean?” Before he could answer, Pomfrey rushed back in with a box of potions and the papers meant for him to read, “Alright dears! I also added in a nutrition help list, a young girl her age needs a proper diet! Especially when her body is healing!” 

Remus took the papers, reading over it, it was quite a lot. Who knew kids took so much work? How was he going to afford all of this? He had a small job at a bookshop, but even he didn’t know how long that was going to last. Could he really do this? He could barely afford his lifestyle, could he really bring up a child properly?

A throat clearing broke his train of thought, looking towards Dumbledore again, “Now, as I was saying. This is a praiseworthy act you are doing, Mr. Lupin. But, it is a task I placed upon you myself. Therefore, it is also my responsibility. You will find Hogwarts will always be prepared to take care of a future witch.” Remus had to sit down, his mind reeling from the shock.

Dumbledore continued, “She already has money her family has left behind in their will, but she will be unable to access it until she is of age. For now, however, you need not worry of how you will afford her meals. I have already written to Gringotts, my letter should be arriving shortly, and the money will be placed into your account. I also took the liberty of sending a letter to an Arthur Weasley, I’m sure you remember him, as he is now a father of seven. I’m sure he can help you in any advice you may need, as well as perhaps some play dates? I believe he has twin boys that is Cyra’s age, and what clever things they are.” 

Pomfrey scoffed at that, “If by clever, you mean little devils! I swear they are going to give me a run for my money just as much as one certain group!” Remus cringed at the sharp glare she shot him, shifting him further away from her. Turning back around, he tried to form words to say, his mouth hanging open as Dumbledore awaited his response. 

“Sir..I..” He was at a loss for words, staring at the Headmaster in wonder. Dumbledore walked over to Cyra, placing his wrinkled hand on her head, “Ms. Cyra, you are a very strong little girl. You’ve faced the horrors of the most brutal and savage man the Wizarding World has seen, and lived to tell the tale. It would be an indecency if I did not assist in making sure you stay safe from now on.” Cyra said nothing, staring up at him curiously, before turning away to look at Remus. He smiled back at her, reassuring her that the words Dumbledore spoke were true. She was going to be safe, and he would do everything in his power to protect the pack he had left.


	4. Puppies and Chocolate

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Remus perked his head up in surprise at Dumbledore’s words, “Allow the little one to explore a bit. She seemed to be entertained by the portraits earlier.” He quickly shook his head, “No, no, we couldn’t. Plus, I don’t know how she would handle so many people. She might get overwhelmed.” The child in question was sitting on the cot, her attention flicking back and forth between the two men as each spoke.

Dumbledore’s gaze stayed still, his eyes twinkling with the wisdom that would take Remus years to achieve, “Now Remus, don’t you think it’s time to expand her horizons? Like I said, Hogwarts is her home, but it is also yours.” Before Remus could pipe in, he continued, “Besides, I believe this little one should have a proper meal that isn’t jam sandwiches, despite how delicious a jam can be.” The young man hung his head in shame, but before he could sink too low, the Headmaster placed his warm hand on his shoulder, “Now, none of that. You two are honored guests, and I believe as guests you deserve a tour, eh?” 

With that, the elder man turned to Cyra, who was staring at both of them with wide and curious eyes. Giving a gentle smile, he offered his hand to her, “Allow me to welcome you to Hogwarts, Miss Cyra.” Slipping off of the cot, her shoes made a soft thud on the stone floors, her hand softly clasping around two of Dumbledore’s fingers before giving a weak shake. If she could get over the fear of the situation, so could he. 

Remus reasoned with himself that he needed to be strong for her, coming over to stand behind her, “We would be delighted to join you, sir.” There was that damn twinkle again, Dumbledore giving him a knowing smile before spinning around, the starry robes twinkling in the light, “Well then, let’s take a tour, shall we?”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
As they ventured down the halls, Cyra kept close by him, clinging to his hand tighter as the pearly-white ghosts glided before them, talking animatedly amongst themselves and paying no mind to the trio. Headmaster Dumbledore simply offered them a nod before continuing on, “Our students are currently preparing for their finals, so we shan’t worry of much attention upon our little guest.” Remus gave a small laugh, that did make him feel better, “Merlin help those kids, N.E.W.T.s are downright awful.” 

Despite what the Headmaster said, there were a few curious stares they received, but were ignored. Cyra refused to meet any gazes, keeping her eyes straight on the doors they were approaching. As they were pushed open, sunlight streamed in, causing Cyra to freeze and shut her eyes. Remus looked down at the pup curiously, seeing her rub at her eyes furiously, “Oh dear.” He halted his steps, bending down to carefully pick her up, “It’s bright, isn’t it?” As she buried her face into his neck, he continued on beside Dumbledore, who had stopped upon noticing they weren’t following. 

Feeling awkward in the silence, he piped in quietly, “Her senses are still new, sounds and light can be too much at times. She hasn’t gone outside because of it.” Dumbledore gave him a hum, before commenting, “Noted. Perhaps we should take her somewhere a bit more shaded then?” With that, he began heading towards a familiar hut. Remus held tight to his charge, following after him, being careful of his steps. 

Seeing the grounds brought something painful to his chest, remembering his old reckless days with the people he considered family. Hogwarts was truly a student’s safe haven, but his friends were the ones who made it home. Upon that thought, another came, one that caused him to furrow his brows, “Dumbledore..” He heard no response, but he knew he was listening, “How come..I mean, how is it that I can care for Cyra, but they wouldn’t let me take him in? I know I wasn’t his godfather, but I’m sure that Lily and James..” His voice broke for a moment, causing him to turn silent. 

Dumbledore was quiet as well, continuing on the path. After a moment, his worn voice cut through the silence, “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask Remus. But as you know, the prejudice that the Ministry holds against those affected by Lycanthropy, it is.. something that has yet to change even after all of these years. With the same reasoning they used with you against Harry, they applied to Cyra, but with an exception.”  
Those last words hung in the air, followed by nothing but silence. 

He didn’t want to ask, because he felt he already knew the answer, his hand balling up the jumper that hung around the small child as she clung to him. After a moment, he gritted out from his clenched teeth, “What was the exception?” Dumbledore finally stopped, letting out a sigh with his head dropping for a moment before he turned to look Remus dead in the eye, the disgust brimming from his voice, “The exception was that a ‘monster’ would be better to care for one of their own than to send it to a ‘normal’ family.” 

Feeling the tension, Cyra lifted her head, squinting to look at Remus’s furious expression. The chest she laid on was rumbling, like a deep growl building from within his chest. Dumbledore shot his hands up in defense, “Their words, not mine, you know that Remus. Trust me, I was just as repulsed.” There was a heavy silence between the two, no more words needing to be shared. It was cut quick however, by the sound of a heavy door being opened, and the bellowing voice from below, “Headmaster Dumbledore! Is that ye!?” As if a switch was flipped, Dumbledore turned to look at the half giant with a kind smile, “Hello Hagrid, I’ve brought visitors. One you may recognize.” Remus felt Cyra wriggle around in his tight grip, muttering a quick apology before loosening his grip, following after Dumbledore. 

Hagrid’s face lit up with surprise as he saw him, “Why, Lupin! Aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes? How are ye nowadays, and who’s this lil one with ye?” He came over to them, looking down at the small child in his arm with curiosity. Cyra clung tighter to Remus, hiding her face in his shoulder. He politely smiled at Hagrid, “I’ve been well, Hagrid. This little one is shy around strangers, you must excuse her. Her name is Cyra, and she’s my charge.” He noticed Hagrid’s eyes finally catch notice of the bandages on her frail body, before he took a few thudding steps back, “Ah, I see. Well no worries! Nobody is a stranger once you get to have some tea with them! Come on in!”  
He pushed the door open to the hut and shuffled himself in, waving for them to follow. Dumbledore let out a chuckle before following him in, the pair entering after. Once the sunlight left them, Remus watched Cyra lift her head once again, blinking a couple times to readjust. Hagrid grabbed a large teapot, filling it with some water before placing it above the fire, “Sit on down! Get comfortable!” 

Remus let Cyra down before he followed Dumbledore to the couch, getting himself comfortable as Hagrid suggested. He looked out the corner of his eye to see Cyra still standing in the place he put her in, her eyes flicking about to every corner of the hut. Each time Hagrid would move, her gaze would lock onto him and stay there until she was satisfied. Dumbledore was observing her as well, but instead of the worried look Remus held, he was smiling. Hagrid noticed the skittishness of the small one, deciding to sit himself down in his wooden chair, it making a loud creak. Her gaze didn’t shift though, instead, something else had her attention. 

Hagrid hummed, leaning to see what she was looking at, before letting out a laugh, “Ah! That’s Fang, that is! Go on ahead and pet him if ye want, he won’t bite ye!” Remus cringed at the word choice, looking over at Cyra worried as she stared down the puppy on the oversized bed. 

Then without a second thought, she raced over to the puppy on the bed. Fang woke up, shaking the sleepiness out of his eyes before he launched himself at the girl, barking in excitement. It was as if they were watching a totally different girl, the soft giggles entering the air, Cyra rolling around on the floor with the puppy. Hagrid was grinning as he watched the endearing scene, “Ay, Fang can melt anyone’s heart.” Remus chuckled, watching the scene with interest, “So can Cyra.” 

Everything was calm, the tension forgotten the moment the huts warmth welcomed them. Hagrid hopped up, going over to his cabinets to grab his teacups, “I recently got this little set, it’s got hippogriffs on them! Got them on discount at this little shop down in Hogsmeade.” Dumbledore folded his hands over his lap, watching the giant carefully take each fragile cup one at a time in his large hands, “Oh, well isn’t that lovely? I love a good design. I recently bought these pajamas, a lovely winter set, and it had these dancing unicorns. I of course got some socks to match, can’t have mismatched bed wear, that’s unforgivable.” 

Remus began to laugh, if someone told him a month ago that he would be listening to a discussion about the Headmaster of Hogwart’s pajama preferences, he would call them crazy. Hearing footsteps approach, he turned to see Cyra approaching him with the puppy in her arms. He waited to see what she needed, but she simply stood there, her large amber eyes staring at him expectantly. He parted his lips to ask, but before he could, she was already gently nudging his hands out of his lap. Remus let her do what she wanted, watching as she struggled to climb onto the couch and hold the puppy at the same time. Finally, she did it, situating herself on his lap before she placed the puppy on hers, petting him happily. Remus sat there astonished, quietly taking the cup of tea he was given. The two other wizards simply chuckled before continuing their conversation.

It wasn’t until after their tea was gone that they realized that Cyra had fallen asleep, her head slumped against Remus’s chest, the puppy nestled in her arms. Remus listened to her soft breathing, reaching his hand up to carefully stroke her brown curls. The other men stayed quiet, Hagrid’s smile slowly falling as he caught notice of the bandages again. He knew it was none of his business, but it broke his heart to see them. Dumbledore noticed it, answering the question that resided in his head, “Fenrir.” Remus’s head shot up at the name, catching the horror as it entered Hagrid’s eyes. The Giant cleared his throat weakly, his hands shaking as he placed his teacup down, “To a w-wee thing like her?” His voice broke as he spoke, the tears beginning to form in his eyes as he imagined the horror the child must have gone through. 

Remus clenched his jaw, petting Cyra’s hair delicately, “He tore her apart like she was a piece of meat. Even when she was bitten, it wasn’t enough for him. I saw it with Pomfrey. She has claw marks all over her back and abdomen. I had hoped that I could heal them all, but a werewolves marks.. they’ll never heal. He mauled her body knowing this.” Hagrid gagged, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. Dumbledore’s face was grim, staring off into the distance, “He is the true monster, though the ministry prefers to blame a child who was given no choice in the matter.”

Remus gave a silent nod, trying to keep calm by focusing on the pup in his arms. She was lucky to be alive, and he knew that, but she would be cursed with not only her infliction, but also the marks on her body for the rest of her life. He didn’t want to imagine what might happen when other’s see them, she’ll never be able to feel comfortable. He could only hope she would make great friends like he did, who didn’t believe everything was skin-deep.

After a moment, Hagrid cleared his throat, dabbing his eyes with the handkerchief, “Well, Cyra will never have to go through that again! She’ll be safe with Lupin! And she’ll always have Hogwarts as well to call a home!” Remus shakily smiled back at him, “Thank you Hagrid.” Dumbledore placed his teacup down on the table, smiling once again, “Yes, I’m sure our dear Miss Cyra will do wonderfully here at Hogwarts. When she’s of age, of course.” Remus caught that, looking at him in surprise, “Wait, pardon?” The Headmaster raised a wispy brow at him, “Hm? Did I perhaps stutter? Or did you not think that I would be offering Miss Cyra the same deal I offered you as a young boy? That shack hasn’t gone anywhere, after all.” Remus pressed his lips together, he was now the one tearing up, “T-Thank you, Headmaster.” He pulled the small girl closer to his chest, placing a kiss at the top of her head. He was worried before, but he was sure of it now, Cyra would be given the best upbringing and childhood. It was what she deserved, after all. 

Dusk soon appeared outside the Hut’s windows, catching their attention. Remus gently shook Cyra as the other wizards stood up, “Cyra, it’s time for dinner.” Her eyes slowly cracked open, looking up at him sleepily, “Mm?” He chuckled, deciding to carry her instead, standing up with her in his arms, “I suppose you’ll have enough time to wake up on the walk back.” He headed towards the door before he remembered, looking down at the small girl, “Cyra, we have to let the puppy stay here.” She gave a pout, hugging Fang to her chest, him continuing to snooze in her warm embrace. Hagrid came over, holding his hands out carefully, “Aye, he’ll get a bit overwhelmed in the dining hall. Let’s let him sleep, alright lil one?” Cyra looked him up and down, before she released the puppy into his hands. 

With that, they were off, heading back towards to castle. Cyra began to doze back off, her head drooping down on Remus’s shoulder. He didn’t bother to try and wake her, he knew the smell of food would wake her stomach. As they entered, Dumbledore looked as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly decided against it and instead strolled up to his head at the head’s table. Remus narrowed his eyes at the old wizard before he followed after, an extra two chairs appearing besides McGonagall’s. He placed Cyra down first, amused as she began looking around confused at her surroundings, before he took his own chair. 

The other teachers soon joined them, filing into their respectful seats. Seeing his old head of house, he shot her a weak smile, “Evening, Professor.” McGonagall gave a chuckle, tucking herself into her seat, “Well hello, Mr. Lupin. You’re not a student anymore, you can call me Minerva if you wish.” Remus cringed, thinking how strange it would feel call her by her first name, but he supposed it must have been strange to still call her Professor when he’s graduated. Before he could say any more, she had already caught sight of Cyra, who was gazing around the room at all of the students filling in the hall. 

“My, and who is this wee lass?” McGonagall asked, leaning a bit over the table to see her, “Is she yours?” Remus looked over at Cyra, smiling, “Yes.” He then realized what she was asking, “I mean! Yes, but I didn’t, um.. actually have her?” McGonagall gave him a knowing smile, “Well but of course you didn’t, Mr. Lupin.” Remus groaned, rubbing his face, “I mean.. I’ve adopted her.” 

“That poor child.” A voice drawled from the other side of Cyra, his head whipped towards it quickly. Sitting there, was Severus Snape, who looked as if he wished to be anywhere but here. Remus narrowed his eyes at him, “Snape, I didn’t know you were a teacher here.” Snape raised a dark eyebrow at him, “I didn’t know you were qualified to care for a child, what with your..condition.” McGonagall cleared her throat, “Boys, enough. There should only be one child at this table.” They both looked away from each other, focusing on the food that magically began appearing on the table. Cyra’s eyes were wide, leaning far back in her chair. Remus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Get whatever you want, Cyra. Do you want milk or pumpkin juice?” 

She was quiet, looking around the table at all of the people, her eyes catching everything that moved. Remus furrowed his brows, watching her worried, “Cyra?” She jumped as her name was called again, looking up at him, his heart clenching as he saw the fear in her eyes. He quickly scooted his chair closer to hers, “How about we try pumpkin juice, eh? You might like it, then I’ll have to buy a gallon of it.” Cyra gave him a small smile before nodding, watching him pour the juice into her goblet. He watched her shaking hands take ahold of it, bringing it to her lips to take a sip. It took a second to process the flavors on her tongue, before she began chugging down the rest of it, only taking a few breaths. Remus gave a soft laugh, taking it once it was empty and refilling it, “Gotcha, so 2 gallons?” Cyra had a brighter smile before she began looking around the table at the food, his ears picking up the sound of her stomach growling. 

Grabbing the plate with the steak, he placed one onto his plate, glancing over with a knowing look as he saw Cyra’s eyes locked onto it now. Without saying a word, he placed another down on her plate, before moving onto the next dish. Soon, he had decorated her plate with everything that was on his. He watched her tiny hands wrap around the fork, trying to get a good grip on it before she stabbed it into the steak. He tried not to laugh as she tried to lift the steak up to her mouth, but the weight of an entire steak caused it to fall down on the plate again. Finally, he took his own knife and fork, “Here, wait a moment, and let me cut this for you.” She gave a pout, sitting back and allowing him to cut it up. Remus didn’t notice the pair of eyes locked onto him, watching him as he cared for his charge. 

“There you are, try again.” He teased, going back to his plate to begin eating. Cyra took a moment for her dignity before she began diving in, shoving a piece of meat into her mouth. He watched out the corner of his eye as her face lit up, he figured she would probably want meat, her infliction would cause more cravings for it after all. By the time he finished cutting his steak, he noticed hers was almost gone. Taking a bite of his, he grabbed a bread roll and plopped it onto her plate.  
“My, you really have taken to the father role, Mr. Lupin.” McGonagall chimed in before politely taking a bite of her potatoes. 

He ducked his head in embarrassment, “Well.. um..” He pushed around his food on his plate, listening to his Old Head laughing, “That’s not a bad thing! She’s lucky to have a father like you.” He gave a weak smile before going back to eating his food. Lucky, eh? He wouldn’t really use those words. If anything, he was lucky to have her. 

Seeing her tear into the bread roll, he wondered how ravenous her appetite must be. He knew when he was younger, his father said he almost ate them out of a house. She had polite table manners at least, chewing with her mouth closed, and using utensils like she’s supposed to. 

He observed the students, all of them in their own world, the older students looking much more tired and worn out. They had survived a wizarding war, he imagined they must be. He could only hope that by the time Cyra joins, it’ll feel a bit more normal. Noticing her plate was empty, he was about to fill it back up but he stopped as he noticed her reaching for a chocolate éclair. The ones closest to Snape himself, his little pup cared not as she tapped her hand on the table, reaching over the man’s arm. Said man was staring down at the girl with a raised brow, before he picked up an éclair, and placed it on her plate. Happy that she now had a sweet, she began snacking once again, and the man went back to eating.  
Remus looked back down at his plate, thinking, he knew Snape wouldn’t be as kind to Cyra if he knew what she was. But perhaps it was for the best. Cyra seemed happy, lost in her own world now of chocolate. If James were to see her, he’d definitely claim that was Remus’s child, due to the addiction to the sweet dark delicacy. Finishing up his dinner, he grabbed himself some chocolate fudge. Food at Hogwarts always tasted better than anything in the world. 

As he ate, he noticed McGonagall staring, as if she was curious about something. Finishing his bite, he raised a brow at her, signaling for her to speak. A little embarrassed that she got caught, she coughed and straightened her back, “So, Remus. I was wondering, what are you going to be doing for her early schooling? Will you be doing muggle or are you going to teach her at home?” He blinked, realizing that he hadn’t actually thought of that. Glancing back at the child who had chocolate now all over her face, he sighed, “I’ll..probably do it at home. When I get time after work.” She gave an understanding nod, picking up her fork before piping in, “You know.. I heard Molly Weasley has been a fantastic teacher to those boys of hers. Her son, Bill, just became prefect.” 

He saw what she was doing, furrowing his brows, “Yes.. I’ve heard. 7 kids, right? I couldn’t possibly give her another to deal with.” He was waved off, “None of that Remus, you know she adores children. And your little one is so adorable, how could she refuse?” He narrowed his eyes at that, “You speak as if she’s already accepted, Minerva.” The Head of Gryffindor quickly looked away from his gaze, “Oh..well, that I would not know. That would perhaps be something to speak about with Dumbledore.” The Headmaster upon hearing his name, gave Remus a knowing smile before raising his goblet to him. The young wizard let out a sigh before turning back to his fudge, “Well then, I suppose you should have said, how could ‘I’ refuse? Eh?” All he received was a chuckle, and then the conversation was over. 

Dinner was soon over, and Cyra was rubbing her stomach, her eyes beginning to droop. Remus took a napkin and gently wiped the chocolate off of her face, “Going into a food coma, are we? Will I be seeing you next week?” Cyra whined, reaching for him, her arms stretched out. He let out a chuckle before picking her up, placing her into his lap, “You’re very clingy today, is it the new environment?” The only response he got back was her nuzzling her head into his neck, and the sound of her yawn. It was probably time for bed.

He stood up and looked directly at Dumbledore, “I suppose we must be off, thank you for having us, Headmaster.” Dumbledore stood himself up, brushing off his robes, “Let me walk you back to the floo, I believe Poppy sent the potions and lists to my office.” He gave a nod, going to follow before he paused, “Oh. It was nice to see you, Minerva..Severus.” Snape’s head shot up, looking at him with narrowed eyes before turning back to watch his house. McGonagall smiled sweetly at them, “It was lovely seeing you too, lad. Bring this little one over anytime, I hope to see her in my house soon.” Remus chuckled before racing down after Dumbledore, offering Hagrid a wave before they left.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Everything has been shrunk down, I believe you know the charm to unshrink them, Remus.” Dumbledore chimed, handing him the shrunken suitcase. The young wizard gave a nod before slipping it into his pocket, “Thank you again, Headmaster. For everything.” Dumbledore looked at the sleeping pup in his arms, “Thank you, Remus. You’re giving her a home. That’s more than many can do.”  
He felt his chest tighten as he thought about what might have happened if he didn’t take her in. 

Once they were in the floo, Dumbledore gave a wave, already heading out of his office, “Oh, and Remus?” 

He perked his head up, looking at him curiously. The old wizard shot him a wink, “I believe Poppy made the potions chocolate flavored, that should save our friend’s taste buds, eh?” 

All he received in response was a laugh before the green flames took them away.


	5. Twins and Knickers

The course of the next few days were uneventful, Remus hadn’t a chance to go to the market because he feared taking Cyra out, no reason to fear starving however. The morning after they arrived back from Hogwarts, a basket of fresh baked goods and meals were sent to their home by owl. He needn’t even read the note to know who it was from, who else would send a basket of baked delicacies just to invite a child over than Molly Weasley? 

The two snacked on the baked goods for the next couple of days, Cyra given her potions before her meals and bed. They had a routine, and he would hate to break it, but there were things he needed to do. Like buying groceries, clothes for Cyra, or even just going to work. He had written to his boss at the shop to notify him of the situation, and of course the explained situation was that his sister passed away, so he was caring for his niece at the moment. People lie to their bosses all the time, he was sure this was fine. What was he going to say? 

‘Hey boss, I’ve taken in a child that’s become a werewolf like me. Oh yeah, you didn’t know I was a werewolf, well surprise! Promise I won’t bite!’ 

He was sure that would have worked splendidly. No, it’s better to just lie. But he could only stay away for so long. Cyra’s bandages have already been able to come off, the scars healing reasonably well. They’d still be there, but would instead just be like his, faint. Just a memory upon the skin. He couldn’t say much for the bite, however. That had healed fairly well, but the imprint of the teeth would be harder to explain to someone. 

Cyra perked her head up, noticing him staring at her but not speaking. Hesitating for a moment, she pulled the muffin she was holding from her mouth. “Moony?” She inquired, she had recently taken to calling him by his Maruader name after finding it on one of his jumpers. His attention shot up to her eyes, as if seeing her there for the first time. His face instantly melted into a warm smile, “Ah, yes, my apologies Cyra. I was just thinking, that’s all.” 

She said nothing in response, her eyes simply bearing into his, awaiting to hear these thoughts. Sitting himself down on the couch, he let out a tired sigh, “How would you feel about meeting some kids your age?” Before she could react, he continued, “I just think it might be good for you! Molly Weasley, the woman who was kind enough to make us all of this? She’s got two boys your age, twins even.” She looked away, going back to eating her muffin in silence. The older man sighed, rubbing his face, he knew himself this wasn’t a good idea. She was still recovering from everything. If he hadn’t pulled her out of it, she would have gone into a panic at the Great Hall that evening. He knew she wasn’t ready, and it wasn’t fair to ask this of her. 

“What about my scratches?” She asked in a small voice. His head jerked up in response, looking over at her in surprise. He honestly didn’t expect this. Stumbling over his words, he yammered out, “W-We can give you a jumper to cover them! You don’t have to worry about that! If someone sees, you can say that you fell into a thorny bush..or something like that..” He trailed off, realizing he was now asking for her to lie as well. There was a pause, before she replied, “The one with the puppy paws?” “Yes, you can wear the one with the puppy paws.” Remus couldn’t resist a chuckle, looking back over at her with a smile. Cyra simply gave another nod before she hopped off the couch and began shuffling out of the room. “Where are you going?” He furrowed his brows in confusion, watching after her. The six year old turned her head to look at him, “Bath. I smell like dog.” 

“Yes, that sadly never goes away.” He joked, stretching out his legs before getting up himself, “I’ll grab the jumper for you. Do you need any help?” He saw the brown curls on the back of her head sway as she shook her head. “Okay.” He shrugged, pressing his lips together to keep the laugh at bay as she proceeded to walk off confidently. 

It wasn’t but a few moments that he heard running water, he kept his door open to his room as he searched through his closet for the jumper she wished for. Grasping the soft fabric, he paused as he heard the bathroom door creak open.  
“Moony? Bubbles?” Cyra called out from the hall, her voice reaching to him in his room. Throwing the jumper onto his shoulder, he walked out to see her standing in the doorway shyly. Knowing it was better not to tease her, he stepped past her into the bathroom, reaching up into the cabinet above the sink, “My bad, Cyra, I put it up where you couldn’t find it.” He placed the bottle of pink soap beside the bathtub, figuring she’d want to control how many bubbles are in it. His only response was a gleeful smile before she was heading over to the filling tub, uncapping the bottle with her small hands. 

Taking that as his cue to leave, he placed the jumper onto the sink, “I’ll shrink down some pants for you.” With that, he exited the bathroom, shutting the door carefully behind him. He was sure it was going to be a little bit, long enough that he’d be able to write Molly to tell her they would be visiting today. Heading towards his room, his ears caught the faint humming that came from the bathroom, in the tune of a song that he hadn’t ever heard before. Smiling to himself, he grabbed a piece of parchment and his quill before he began scribbling away.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Remus asked Cyra for the fifth time, her only response being a simple, “Uh huh.” Even as she was gathering books to take with her, he was behind her, looking visibly stressed, “You know you can tell me if you’re stressed. If the situation makes you uncomfortable, let me know, and I’ll take you out of it. Okay?” Cyra was silent, simply just taking his hand and stepping into the floo. Remus let out a sigh before throwing the floo powder, “The Burrow.” 

Green overtook their sight, before it was replaced by a brightly lit home, the scent of baked bread entering their senses. “OH!” A shout rang out, causing Cyra to flinch and grab onto Remus’s leg. A bright red-headed woman was hustling out of the kitchen, smiling brightly at the pair, “Welcome Lupin’s! Sorry I wasn’t here, I have some sweets in the oven!” Her eyes shot instantly to the younger of the two, her smile getting wider, “Well, isn’t she just darling!” 

Crouching down to her level, she held out her hand, her tone more softer, “Hello, little one, my name is Molly. What is yours?” Cyra went to speak, but Remus piped in, “U-Uh, she’s still a bit shy around strangers.” Molly caught the look Cyra gave her caretaker, “Oh, is she now?” She stood back up, placing her hands on her hips, looking at Remus with a knowing smile. 

Remus cleared his throat, petting Cyra’s curls, “Yes. Also, Molly, we really appreciate the invitation, but I don’t think she’s quite ready to be socializing quite yet. I don’t want to push-“ He was silenced by the redhead’s hand, a laugh bursting from her, causing him to furrow his brows. Molly shook her head, her curls bouncing with her, “Lupin! You are always going to be more protective of your first child, so I understand. But I don’t think it’s her who has a problem with this, but you.”  
The younger man gave a huff, puffing his chest in indignation, “Molly-“ Before he could finish yet another sentence, two identical red-haired boys were bounding down the stairs, “Mum-“ One began, “Is she here?” The other finished. Remus blinked at the pair, finding it difficult to tell between the two, “This must be your boys?” Molly hummed, placing her hands at the tops of their heads, “Two of the bunch of them. Boys, introduce yourselves.” 

The one on the right held out his hand to Cyra, grinning boyishly, “I’m Gred.” His brother placed his arm above his, “And I’m Forge!” Cyra looked at both of their hands confused, before she placed her books down onto the floor and shook both of their hands at the same time. Remus pressed his lips together, watching her with worry in his gaze. ‘But was it really worry for her?’, the annoying voice in his head made him wonder. 

“Cyra.” Her voice entered the air, so small and delicate, that it made the twin’s eyes widen. Molly felt her heart melt, looking down at the young one endearingly. Remus released the tension he was holding in his body. Cyra was fine, she can handle this, he knew this to be a fact. He hated having to leave her though. The twins shook her hands, looking a bit more bashful, “My name’s not really Gred, it’s George.” Cyra looked more confused, before glancing down at their hands, still shaking. The other twin piped in, “And I’m Fred, not Forge.” 

She nodded slowly, looking at the both of them with calculating eyes, taking in every feature on their faces. They were very identical. Beauty marks all in the same spot. She supposed their scents were a bit different. George was the twin that smelled more like oranges, and Fred smelled like cherries. Taking that as enough, she finally released their hands, bending down to pick up her books.  
Molly clapped her hands together, causing the young girl to jump, “Ri-“ She paused, looking at Cyra before she softened her tone once again, “Right. Well, now that everyone is acquainted. Boys, why don’t you take Cyra up to your room? I’m going to speak to Lupin for a moment.” Remus’s eyes widened, ‘To their room??’ Was that something that was supposed to happen? He understood they were kids, but should that really happen? Before he could object, Cyra’s arms were looped by the twins and she was hauled up the stairs. 

Turning his head quickly to Molly, he piped up, “Molly, I know that they are your boys, but should they be alone? I mean, they’re kids bu-“ “Enough Lupin, that’s just it, they’re kids! If they were 15, I might have worried, but these are children. I’ve already made the boys put away their dungbombs.” His eyes widened in worry, “Their-“ Molly turned away, heading off into the kitchen, “Come with me! I have some things I’ve written down for you!” He stared after her confused, were they just going to ignore what she just said? Why did kids have dungbombs? 

Following after her, he was presented with a parchment list, “What..?” He scanned over it, “What is the Blossom Shop?” He looked up confused at her. She simply smiled, “It’s a muggle shop in London, they have children’s clothes. You cannot keep dressing that child in band t-shirts and your jumpers. I also put down what type of knickers to buy her.” Remus stared at the list in horror, though it was disrupted by a tap on his arm, “Now Lupin, don’t act like I’m asking you to get the poor thing a training bra! She needs knicker-“ Remus jumped back, “Ah! Ah! Stop saying that, Molly, there are children!” 

Molly sighed, unamused, “Honestly, Arthur wasn’t even this bad with Ginevra..” Looking at the wizard more sternly, she put on her mom tone, “Remus Lupin, you have to get that girl some proper clothes! Suck up your pride, and you go buy that girl some skirts and knickers!” He flinched again, but this time didn’t fight back, instead looking down in shame. “Alright,” He resigned, “I’ll go buy her some..knickers.” That cheered the woman up instantly, “Great!” She pointed at the next thing on the list, “There are also some bathroom stuff for kids, muggles have these shampoos and conditioners that are tear-free, so it won’t hurt if it gets in her eyes.” He began to look impressed, “Wow..Molly, this is very detailed.” 

She simply shrugged, “After 7 kids, you learn, very quickly.” The witch then turned away, going to check on what was in the oven. Remus pocketed the list, straightening out his jumper before going to head out. “Oh! And Lupin?” Her voice called him back, causing him to freeze, “Parenthood is hard, but you’re doing a great job with her.” He felt his heart stop as he saw the motherly smile she had, he was never close with her in school, but now he wish he had been. She was truly a very caring witch. “Thank you.” He choked out, before he quickly flooed out. The sooner he finished everything, the sooner he could be back with his pup.

Meanwhile, Cyra was on a rollercoaster of emotions. She knew she had to handle this, Moony had things to do, and she was getting in the way. However, she didn’t know if her brain could handle much more of the twins. They both spoke a mile a minute, throwing topics out into the air, and making it more confusing by finishing each other’s sentences. She didn’t even know who was talking anymore! Clutching her books to her chest, her eyes kept darting between the two, trying to keep up. The twin named Fred seemed to be leading most of the conversation, coming up with new ideas. George however, would be adding in details to make it more entertaining.

To make matters worse, despite having two beds, they both decided to sit at both sides of her. They were speaking to her, she was sure of that, but she didn’t know what! It was all too much. As if just noticing her distress, George paused, staring at her curiously, “Are we being rude?” Huh? It was quiet for the first time. Cyra blinked in confusion, turning to look at him, “Huh?” He offered a small smile, “We’re talking all at you, we’re being rude, aren’t we? We didn’t even give you a chance to speak.” His brother leaned against her shoulder, giving her a cheeky grin, “Sorry about that, mum tells us off all the time about it! You’re pretty nice not to though, most would get sick of it already!” She was. But she didn’t say that. They both looked at her expectantly, making her wish they were speaking again. 

Swallowing, she stuttered out, “Y-Yes..it was rude.” They didn’t get mad, instead they both shared a laugh before leaning closer to her, “Our apologies, Miss Cyra.” One began, “Yeah! That’s no way to treat a lady!” The other finished. She tried to look at both of them, but her neck was beginning to hurt from swiveling left and right. Letting out a sigh, she replied, “It’s okay. It’s just a bit much.” She received an understanding nod from them both, before George reached down and took the book she was hugging to her chest, “Do you want to read instead? Would that be a bit quieter?” He watched as her eyes lit up, the honey colored irises becoming brighter before she flashed him a smile, “Yes!” 

This being the first time she smiled since they entered their room, the twins were in awe. Quickly, Fred hopped off the bed and went over to a stack of books on the ground, “Mum gave us some books to study on Hogwarts, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. They’re Percy’s old books. Wanna try them?” He held up a copy of ‘Hogwarts a History’, one that caught Cyra’s interest. Hogwarts, was that the place they visited a couple of days ago? She remembered it seeming so magical, and that was enough for her. Giving him a quick nod, she pointed at the book he was holding, “That one!” Fred looked at it before glancing back at the excited girl, it seemed to make her happy so why not? 

Taking his place back at her side, he leaned back against the headboard, “Here you are.” He placed it in her lap, enjoying how her eyes lit up as she stared at the hardcover. George leaned back with him, giving him a grin before turning to Cyra, “Could you read it out loud to us? It’ll be a bit difficult for us all to read it at once.” 

She hesitated for a moment, staring down at the book in her hands. It was very nice of them to let her read their books. “Okay..but.” Cyra decided to look at George, “I can stop if my throat hurts?” He shared a look with Fred behind her before he looked back at her, talking softer, “Yeah..yeah you can.” With that, she leaned back with them, opening up the book to the first chapter, “In the tenth century, the four greatest witches and wizards of the same age shared a dream-“

Molly soon came upstairs, being sure not to alert the three of her presence by avoiding the creaky steps. Despite what she said to Lupin, she did worry about the twins. They tended to bully their younger brother; the poor thing was already traumatized by the last incident. But by the time she reached their room, her worries were washed away by the sound of the little girl’s voice reciting from the book. Peering in from the corner, she saw the twins had her settled between them, their eyes beginning to droop shut. 

She almost jumped out of her skin when Cyra’s eyes locked onto her in a flash, her eyes shining in the sunlight. Molly offered her a smile before she put her finger in a shushing manner, signaling not to say a word. Cyra blinked at her before turning back to turn the next page, “Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem was a magical artefact that was bewitched to enhance the wearer's wisdom.” She quickly sneaked away, her heart pounding in her chest from her little scare. Children had such good hearing. 

Remus had finally finished all of his shopping, the women at the children’s store seemed to pity him and assisted him in finding everything for Cyra. Paying with the money he had transferred from Gringott’s, he headed out with some large bags that he would shrink once he was away from muggle eyes. He had already put away all of the groceries, now all he had left was to drop off the stuff for Cyra, and then he could floo back to get her.  
During the time he had been out, his thoughts were infested with Cyra, he needed to know if she was okay. He had thought of just flooing over once just for a quick check in, but he was sure Molly would have teased him relentlessly for that. 

So he did what he had to do, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t run straight to the floo. When the burrow greeted him, he was disappointed to see it was only Molly, holding her youngest ones. 

She shot him a smug smile, “Ah Lupin, I expected to see you much sooner. I thought you would have given in and come to get her after just an hour.” That was exactly why he didn’t. Looking around the burrow, he raised a brow, “Where is Cyra?” He felt something sink when he saw the cunning smile on her face. It was then he realized, she wasn’t smug for no reason. Something happened. Looking towards the stairs, he raced off before she could stop him. She was held down by the two babes on her lap, she couldn’t. 

When he finally reached the room with the open door, he froze, staring at the scene before him in total shock. Cyra was curled up between the two boys, both of their arms wrapped tightly around her, the children all fast asleep with a book lying abandoned on the floor. He didn’t know what to feel, a part of him wanted to pry the boys hands off of her. But he also felt happy, she was showing trust to someone that wasn’t him. That thought brought some pain to his heart, he ignored it. This was good. The twins were good for her. He knew that now. 

“So when can we expect some wedding bells?” Molly whispered from behind him. The smile on his face fell instantly. Never mind whatever just went through his head. The twins were not good for her.


	6. Transform and Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is going to be a bit of a short chapter. With recent events, I've been a bit distracted. But I wanted to say thank you for the kudos! I'd like to know what you guys think though, should I keep going as Cyra grows up, or should we skip forward to her going to Hogwarts? Tell me your opinion!

Broken screams cut through the night, drowning out Lupin’s own. Through his blurred vision, he could see the small figure contorting on the ground, clawing at the wood as if she could escape from the pain. He wished to hold her, to whisper comforting words in her hair, protecting her from the nightmare she would become. He had seen it coming before she did. The moon approaching caused her to sour, throwing tantrums left and right. She was agitated, the wolf clawing from within her to get out. He couldn’t blame her, instead he chose to power through the clothes and books being thrown, the silent treatment. It was the least he could do, to hopefully help her appease some of her indirect anger. As his vision began to darken, he felt panic before everything went numb.

Waking that next morning was rough beyond belief, the sunshine streaming in through the cabin’s windows and landing on his eyes. Squinting, he rolled off of his back, ignoring his body’s aching protests. Scanning the room, he took note of the destroyed furniture, cotton strewed among the floor. But no blood, he thanked to merlin, there was no blood. But there was no girl either.

Pushing himself up on his forearms, he looked around the room once more, taking in the claw marks on the walls. Moony wouldn’t do this, he had known his wolf enough that while he was violent, he had long grown out of petty destruction. No, he instead craved flesh. Swallowing thickly, he snatched up his wand that had rolled under the couch and accioed his houserobe, quickly covering his bare body. Now on his feet, he began tip-toeing, following a trail of cotton and fabric. As he entered the kitchen, he noticed the mauled carcass of his favorite throw pillow. Sighing, he continued down the path, finally stumbling upon the small curled up figure in a nest of cotton and feathers.

A breath of relief came from his chest, hurrying over to the closet in the hallway for the spare blanket. Reaching down, he wrapped the child into the fabric, before lifting her up into his arms. She was still fast asleep, and he figured she would probably rest for most of the day. Taking her into her room, he made sure she was properly dressed and tucked into her bed, before he went to deal with the crime scene she left behind.  
  
It wasn’t until almost lunchtime that she came out, shuffling quietly into the now clean house with her duvet wrapped around her. He watched in amusement as it dragged behind her, putting away his book when she stopped before him, “How are you feeling?” He watched as her face scrunched up in response to his question, as if willing herself not to cry. “Hurt.” She whispered back, before she crawled into his lap, hugging him tightly.

He simply held her, rubbing her back through the duvet, “I know dear, I know. I’m so sorry.” Remus sighed as he felt her tremble in his arms, the front of his shirt beginning to feel wet. He simply let her cry it out that morning, a few tears of his own escaping.

* * *

It took a few days before Cyra felt okay again for another playdate, during that time Remus made sure she was well fed and rested. He answered the questions she had, explaining the process in the best way he could. She seemed to understand, and he watched as she began to grasp her new senses. Now that she had fully transformed, it came a bit easier for her. He loved watching her zone out during breakfast as she listened to the birds singing outside, or when her head would perk up at some critter running around the forest. The hardest part was hiding sweets from her, he had bought some chocolate to cheer her up after the full moon, and she had already sniffed it out before he could finish his shower.

Dumbledore had come over to visit, bringing over a couple of toys for her that Professor McGonagall had apparently bought. She seemed pretty intrigued with the pretend potions kit before she laid eyes on the unicorn doll, now it was the one thing she would carry around nonstop. Bingles, she had named it, Bingles the Unicorn. Bingles would eat with them at the table, and would even go for bath time.

He was thankful Bingles had some charms on him to prevent him from getting dirty, though he was sure nothing could protect him from his mane being ripped out as Cyra brushed his hair every day with a plastic comb. It was nice to see her act like a normal child, he couldn’t help but wonder if these moments of happiness were what his parents experienced. They always pushed everything normal onto him, as if a distraction from what was really going on. Now he could understand. She needed this, to have something to cling to and remind her that she is still human. He needed that.

When it came time for the playdate, she seemed to insist that Bingles would be sad if she left him at home, so she carried him with her into the floo. He couldn’t find it in him to argue, following after her with a handful of floo powder. When they arrived, Cyra clung tightly to the stuffed unicorn, taking in the different smells and sounds. Remus allowed her a moment to adjust before announcing their arrival, “Mrs. Weasley?” There was a loud thud upstairs before the two identical boys came running down the stairs, laughter bubbling from them. “FRED GIDEON WEASLEY! GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY! YOU GET BACK HERE AND YOU APOLOGIZE TO YOUR BROTHER THIS INSTANT!” The booming voice of Molly Weasley came from the top of the stairs, causing both Remus and Cyra to flinch, their enhanced hearing causing their ears to throb.

Fred and George quickly ducked behind the smaller girl, giggling to themselves as their mother bounded down the stairs, a crying Ronald Weasley on her left hip, and a confused Ginny on her right. She was right furious, though it paused for the moment she saw her new visitors, “Oh Lupin dear. Cyra. Welcome in! I see my two troublemakers have found you before I.”

Remus chuckled, stepping forward, “Yes, I hope we aren’t too early, I’d hate to be trouble.” Molly plopped the crying child on the couch, before placing his sister next to him, “Nonsense! I’ll never have my hands too full!” Cyra turned her head to look at George on her left, raising a questioning brow at him. He leaned in and whispered, “We’re in a spot of trouble, you see.” His twin leaned into her other ear, “You see, Charlie left us these Zonko’s products. And we decided to try one.” Cyra nodded, looking over to the crying Ronald. |  
  
“Ginny wanted to have a tea party with Fred, Ron, and I.”  
  
“So we thought, what a great time to try out the nose-biting teacup we got!”  
  
“It was a bit of a gamble.”  
  
“But it seems Ronny-kins was the loser.”  
  
Cyra zeroed in on the red bite mark on the younger one’s nose, her lips quirking up as she tried to restrain a giggle.  
  
Remus glanced over at her, zoning out Molly’s shouts of ‘horrid sons’, taking notice of the small smile that had formed. He had always wondered if a child raised by a Marauder would be just as mischievous, it seemed he got his answer.


	7. Rock and Scratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this next one! As someone dealing with this condition, I thought about adding it in for Cyra. You don't see a lot of characters struggling with it, and I think there should be more.

Music echoed in the halls as it blared from the speakers on the radio cassette, it slightly shaking from the edge of fridge it was set upon. Cyra sat at the counter, a book in her hands, but her focus was on her guardian who was dancing as he cooked. Remus nodded his head along to the beat of the music, whisking the eggs together in the metal bowl before throwing in a bit of salt. As the song faded out, he glanced over at his charge, seeing her watching him like a hawk, “What?”

_“And that was Starship’s ‘We Built This City’! From the new hit album, ‘Knee Deep in the Hoopla’! We’re going to take a small break and then we’ll be back with the group that is performing live in Rio tomorrow night, Queen!”_

Cyra glanced down at the band tee she was wearing, trying to pull it over her head to read it. She could make out a few letters, but it was hard to read upside down. Remus pushed her hands back down, answering her question, “Yes, that’s the band on your shirt. Well..it was my shirt. But now it’s yours.” He went back to cooking, pouring the eggs into the hot pan. Cyra reached over and picked back up her unicorn, hugging him to her chest, “You like it?”

Remus was confused at the question, glancing over at her so she could explain, but instead she just pointed at the radio. It took a moment before he understood, “Oh, the music? Yeah! Muggles really have the best style, in my opinion. You just don’t hear that in the wizarding world.” Cyra nodded along, though she didn’t really understand what he was talking about.

“I mean, you should have seen James when he learned that there was good music. He went absolutely wild! Not to mention Sirius, he began dressing like a rocker, said he was going to learn guitar and make a band with us.”

Cyra got more confused, she had never heard these names before. But Remus looked happy, so she didn’t really want to stop him. He continued on for a bit, the next song playing in the background, but he seemed to pay it no mind. Cyra began to enjoy the sound of the drumming and guitars, especially as Remus’s tales grew more and more detailed. It was like a secret side of him that she didn’t know yet.

“Oh! And you should have seen Sirius! Lily got a right laugh out of his attempt at eyeliner, he did eventually get better though! I caught them doing lessons on makeup. He tried to put it on me next, I refused, but Sirius was always good at convincing me into things. Even when I was so very upset with him, he could still find a way to make me laugh and forget I was even angry in the first place. Honestly though, that’s why I lov-“

Then it stopped. The music was still fading out, but Cyra felt as if everything was frozen still. Remus had ceased all movement, as if someone stupefied him. She began to grow worried, hugging Bingles closer to her chest.

“Moony?” She called out.

Smoke was beginning to come from the pan, the smell of burnt eggs reeking into the air they were breathing. The 6 year old hopped down from her stool, hurrying over to her guardian and tugging on his pants, “Remus!” As if he was snapped out of it, he jerked, his head quickly dropping to look down at her. His face was pale, as if he had just seen a ghost, his hands trembling as they dropped the spatula in his hand.

Cyra wrapped her arms around his leg, “It’s okay.” She didn’t even know what she was comforting him for, but her Moony was scared, so she’d help him feel better. She reached up as far as she could to give him pats on his lower back, repeating, “It’s okay.” It took him a few moment to understand what was happening before he quickly bent down to her, forcing a smile onto his face, “Thank you Cyra. I was very scared.” He felt his heart clench as she stared at him with wide eyes, “Not anymore?”

“No. Not anymore.”

She seemed pleased by that, smiling back at him. Remus tried to ignore the lingering thoughts he had, standing back up and sniffling back the tears that tried to escape. Something was burning. He finally caught notice of the eggs and moved them off the stove, “Oh no!” It was too late, they were already burnt to a crisp.

Sighing, he glanced back down at the child, “Those were the last of the eggs..seems we may not have those sandwiches tonight.” He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t look disappointed, her little feet hurrying over to grab the Chinese takeout menu from the basket. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Remus to mess up the cooking.

Grabbing the landline, he chuckled as he took the menu that was shoved in his direction, “Alright, what do you want?”

* * *

_Scratch. Scratch. Scratch._

There it was again, that infernal sound. Glancing over from his work schedule, he saw Cyra clawing at her legs through her pajama pants. He cleared his throat pointedly, causing her to stop immediately. But within 5 minutes, she was back at it again.  
She had been doing this for a week now, and he just didn’t understand. Was it a tick? Did she have fleas? He was joking around with that last one, but Cyra was definitely having at her skin like she had something. That morning, he had to give her two band aids cause she managed to break the skin.

_Scratch. Scratch. Scratch._

Finally having enough, he placed his book down on the table, “Okay, let me see your legs.” Cyra looked at him confused, still clawing at them through the fabric. Heading over, he carefully took her leg and pushed up the pantleg to her knee, gasping as he saw the mess. Scratch marks all over, as he had already expected. But underneath them and the bandaids was an inflamed rash. It was as if the child had gotten into poison ivy.

Cyra looked uncomfortable, reaching up to scratch her arm next, but she was stopped by his hand. Remus looked at her worried, “Is it like this there too?” Cyra nodded, her face scrunching up with discomfort, fighting a little against his hand so she could claw at the area. Remus had no idea what to do, what if she had some kind of disease? Like Dragon Pox!? He released Cyra’s hands to hurry into the kitchen, tearing open a drawer and grabbing the mittens. Before Cyra could scar herself more, they were forced onto her hands. He added a charm to stick them on so she would be unable to remove them.

Quickly, he penned a letter to Madam Pomfrey, explaining what was going on and begging for help. The owl was sent off in a flash. Cyra began to furiously rub at her skin with the mitts, getting frustrated as she couldn’t scratch.

* * *

Remus almost bulldozed through Dumbledore as he ran out of the floo, carrying the child in his arms. Albus was alarmed by his old student’s panic, but quickly calmed himself, before motioning for him to follow. The relief that Remus felt when they arrived was nothing short of a miracle. Madam Pomfrey whisked the itchy child away into the curtains and immediately began. He was soon returned the mittens on a tray, quietly taking them and avoiding the Headmaster’s amused stare.

By the time Pomfrey arrived, he was shaken, worry etched on every feature of his face. She looked at him pitifully, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Dear, please calm yourself. She is fine.” He felt the weight fall off of his shoulders, dropping back into his seat with a sigh of immense relief.

“What is it then?” He inquired.

The Nurse raised a brow at him before whipping out a chart, “What have you been using for her bathtime and for washing her clothes?” Remus’s eyes grew wide as he tried to think, “Uhh..” He felt Dumbledore’s stare and began to sweat, “I don’t know? I got her this bubble bath that smells like bubblegum? And I just wash her clothes in the same stuff I use?” Obviously that was the answer she was looking for as she gave a sharp nod.

“Right, that explains it then.”

He watched her scribble in her chart, waiting. When the rest didn’t come, he cleared his throat, smiling weakly when she finally glanced back up at him, “Sorry. But, what is it?” Pomfrey ripped out the paper on her chart, “Cyra has Atopic Dermatitis. Otherwise known as Eczema. Her skin is very sensitive.”

He nodded along, trying to grasp what she was talking about, taking the paper as it was held out to him. The nurse continued, “I’ve already applied a topical potion for her flare-ups, she’s sitting now in a bath of lavender to help soothe the rest of her skin.” Remus read over the list of do’s and don’ts she gave him, “So..no hot water, perfumes, tight clothing, scented lotions or washes?”

He was given a quick nod before she continued, “I’ve also written down the natural herbs she can use. Lavender in baths and salves are always very comforting. Not to mention, it would make bedtime much easier. It’s a muggle plant, but very helpful. We also have some bath oils that use moonroot, it helps with itching and irritation.” The young man continued to nod along, though he was beginning to get a bit overwhelmed. She didn’t seem to notice, pointing at the next thing on the list, “I don’t know much about the muggle world, but I’ve heard they have washing liquids for clothes that are made for ones with sensitive skin.”

The Headmaster finally stepped in, “I believe that’s enough, Poppy. Allow the poor man to breathe.” She finally stepped back, going to go check on her little patient. Remus stared at the list in his hands in confusion, but there was some guilt building inside. He had been doing everything wrong, causing her to suffer for so long and scar her skin moreso than before. He should have paid more attention, he knew she had been itchy for a week now.

“Remus.”

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the elder wizard’s voice, looking over to him quickly, “Y-Yes?” He was shaken, clutching to the paper with tight hands. Dumbledore gave him a knowing smile, “You’re not a bad guardian, Remus. You didn’t know. And it’s very hard for a child to communicate what is wrong at this age.” The younger wizard simply let out a sigh, looking over to where his charge was kept, “I just..I thought I was finally getting the hang of this? And now I’ve found out that I haven’t.”

A laugh was his reply, the old man somehow finding humor in his guilt, “It takes a village, Remus! Like I said before! You are doing wonderfully with her, do not allow a stumble to stop you in this. You are the best person for Cyra, she’s already built so much trust in you. That’s not easy, my boy.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit better hearing those words, though he felt no better than when the little girl came bounding from the curtain, her curls bouncing with each step. Pomfrey shouted for her to stop, but she was on the go, racing towards her Moony. When he was hit with the force of a 6 year old girl, he stumbled to get his balance, a laugh breaking out.

“I’m not itchy anymore Moony!” She declared, hugging him tightly, her hair still dripping wet and leaving a huge wet stain on his pantleg. He didn’t care though, patting her head with a smile, “I’m glad love.”


	8. Birthdays and Proposals

Today was a very nerve-wracking but exciting day for Remus, the sun had barely risen as he began his preparations. Not even the Full Moon nearing next week could falter him in his steps. No, it was a good day indeed. Special, even. So special that he had woken himself up early to make chocolate chip pancakes, allowing himself an allotted time slot in case any got burned.

By the time Cyra had woken, the table was decked out with food, and Remus was nearly bursting from the seams when he noticed her entering. He allowed her a moment to wipe the sleep from her eyes before he spoke, “Happy Birthday, Cyra.” The wizard was pleased at the tired smile that formed on the child’s face, before he quickly guided her over to the table.

She hadn’t even woken up fully, her eyes only half open as she began munching on the bacon that was set on her plate. Remus reached over the table and carefully cut up her pancakes for her, “I hope you slept well. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

He received a muffled sound of affirmation, much to his amusement. Nudging the syrup closer to her, he watched as the bottle was uncapped and globs of sugary liquid was poured onto her food. He didn’t stop her, choosing to go ahead and begin eating his own.

* * *

After breakfast was finished, and the little pup was finally awake, they began going over the plans for the day. “Molly has offered to host your party at the Burrow, so we’ll need to be there at around 3pm.” Remus began, whisking out his wand and giving it a flick to send the dirty dishes to the sink, “You and I will be heading into London to not only get your cake, but anything you might want, as you are the birthday girl.”

Cyra’s head perked up at that, her eyes wide with astonishment, “Anything I want?” Remus shot her a smile before clarifying, “Within reason, of course.” She quickly shoved out her hands, waving them at him, “Nails! Like Tonks!” He definitely wasn’t expecting that, and now the wizard had to rack his brain to remember what was so special about the 13 year old’s nails. He knew Cyra took an instant liking to the young witch from their times at the Burrow.

Nymphadora was very much like her cousin, who he shalt not name, very into the more punk fashion. Often using her metamorphmagus talent to change her hair into spiky pink locks, or to change her natural nails to always look like she had nail polish on, typically sporting black. That was it! Proud of his accomplishment, he looked back at his charge, “You wish to have black nails like Nymphadora?”

Cyra nearly bounced out of her chair, waving her hands again in excitement. Who was he to refuse such a cute display? Giving her a nod in response, he stood up, cracking his back, “Alright, time to get dressed then. Let’s get a move on, pup.” Before he could finish stretching, she was already bolting out, her bedroom door slamming open with a thud. Chuckling to himself, he went off to his own room, though with much calmer stride.

* * *

The weather couldn’t have been described with anything more than beautiful, the pair walking around Surrey so they blended in with the muggles. Remus didn’t even need to ask what flavor of cake Cyra wanted hers to be, he knew the answer instantly. Chocolate. As much chocolate as that poor baker in the shop could manage.

He didn’t wish to rush though, wanting to allow Cyra to enjoy her outing with him. She didn’t often leave the cabin unless they were running an errand, or she was off to the Burrow. He had to remind her about Muggles however, wanting to make sure she knew not to speak of magic in front of them. She seemed to understand, though he would never underestimate his pup.

She was very intelligent for her age, already capable of reading even difficult sentences in books. Molly had spoken to him about having to advance Cyra’s lessons to a year above where the twins were, though they would never tell the children, since it could cause some disconnection among the trio.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt her pace suddenly stop, quickly glancing down to be sure she was okay. Cyra paid no mind to him however, her attention drawn to the playground full of children. He could see the yearning in her expression as she watched some kids push each other on the swing sets.

Clearing his throat, he crouched down to her level, causing her to shift her attention back to him. Before she could speak up, he shot her a smile, “How about you play with them for a bit? I can rest on a bench; my feet were getting tired anyway.” They weren’t, but he wanted her to feel free to go off and have some fun. The lie was worth it too, when all he was given was a quick nod before she was eagerly running towards the playground.

Standing back up, he strode over to an empty park bench that had some shade. Relaxing against the wood, he let out a content sigh as he watched his pup approach a group of girls her age.

* * *

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” One of the girls had asked, playing with the braids that hung from her head. Cyra instantly felt intimidated as all of their eyes set on her, taking a step back for a moment before she placed out her hand, “I’m Cyra, I’m si- seven!” Today was her birthday, she seemed to have to remind herself.

The one who had spoken took her hand, shaking it, “I’m Peggy Clivesdale. I’m seven.” The chorus of girls introducing themselves soon followed, names that Cyra couldn’t possibly remember them all. Peggy stepped away, motioning out to a little sandcastle they were building in the box, “We were just playing pretend! I’m a pretty princess.” She flicked a braid behind her at that statement, “Maggie is playing a witch, and Kayla is going to be my knight.” The smaller girl piped in, “A-Actually, I wanted to be a Werewolf.”  
  


Cyra felt her stomach drop at that statement, looking at Kayla with wide eyes. Peggy stomped her foot with a huff, turning to Kayla, “No! I told you that you’re going to be a Knight! Werewolves are too scary! And we already have the Witch to be our monster!” Those words caused Cyra to take another step back, hanging her head as she listened to the girl’s argue. Maggie seemed to have something to say, piping in with her posh accent, “My mum let me and brother watch The Howling, it wasn’t that scary.”

No argument seemed to sway Peggy, as she continued in her tirade that Werewolves were ugly monsters, and they would not be playing any. No one seemed to notice as Cyra excused herself, her feet taking her far away from whatever that was. Muggles were very rude, she reasoned. Sure, she knew that Wizards weren’t very nice to Werewolves, but to even call a witch a monster? Ridiculous.

As she hurried off, she didn’t realize what direction she was actually heading in. It wasn’t until she came upon a small boy that she realized she had reached the forest part of the park. He seemed to be alone, playing with the twigs in the dirt. She glanced around for some adult that must have been watching him, but found none.

Without a word, she sat herself down next to him on the grass, causing him to jump at her sudden appearance. Giving him a polite smile, she reached out her hand, “Hello, I’m Cyra, I’m seven.” He seemed to hesitate before he took it with his dirt covered palm, “I-I’m Harry and I’m five.” She didn’t seem to mind her hand being dirtied, giving him a firm shake before releasing him. Then, there was silence.

She didn’t know if she preferred this, but she knew it was better than the girls from before. Harry pushed around the dirt with the stick he had, refusing to make eye contact with her. Cyra decided to snatch up a stick of her own, beginning to draw in the dirt next to him. Finally, he spoke up, “Do you live here?” She glanced over to him to see he was still hiding his face, before she responded, “No, Moony and I are visiting. It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh. Happy Birthday.”

She felt a little smile form at his words, “Thank you.”

“Is Moony your Mummy?”

Cyra paused at the question, deciding to play around in the dirt for a bit, “No..” She gave another pause, “Moony is a boy. He takes care of me.”

“So is he your daddy?”

“No, well, I mean I guess so? My mummy and daddy are gone now.” Cyra honestly didn’t know how to answer that question. Was Moony her new daddy? He never asked her to call him it, and he didn’t seem to care that she didn’t. But he did do everything her parents used to.  
  
“Mine too. I live with my aunt and uncle.” Harry finally had looked up at her, his green eyes peering into her soul, “You miss them?”

Cyra felt the words leave her before she could even think, “Yes.” She quickly looked back down, “Do you miss yours?”

He seemed to shrug it off, picking up some leaves on his side, “I dunno, I never met them. I wish I had a mummy and daddy though.”

Cyra didn’t know what to say at that, she didn’t want Harry to be sad, so she instead reached over and gave him a hug. She felt him stiffen in her arms, it took a bit but he eventually relaxed again. Pulling away, she quickly wiped her hands on the grass before she took off her backpack, “I know what will cheer you up!”

The boy watched as she dug through the backpack, before his eyes widened at the sight of a fluffy unicorn appearing. Cyra held him out like her pride and joy, “This is Bingles! He’s super soft and makes me feel better when I’m sad!” She then plopped the unicorn in his lap, “Give him a hug! You’ll see!” Harry stared at the doll in wonder before he gathered it up in his arms and hugged it closely. He suddenly felt all warm inside, like Bingles was giving him a hug back.

Seeing the smile from the boy, Cyra felt oddly proud of herself. Without another thought, she said, “You can have him if you want.” His head swiveled quickly to her, his eyes wide, “R-Really? But he’s your toy!” She didn’t seem upset, but he knew better than to touch other’s toys, Dudley’s especially. Cyra just smiled at him, “Yeah! You seem to need him more. You can have him if you promise to be my friend!”

She then held out her pinky to him, waiting, and it didn’t take long before he sealed the promise with his own. They then went back to playing, though both were chatting amicably now. Remus soon stumbled upon them, oddly confused as to why some boy had the unicorn she treasured.

“Cyra?” The calling of her name quickly caught her attention, pushing herself off of the ground as she saw who it was. Cyra brushed off her pants, smiling brightly at Remus, “Hello Moony! I was playing with my new friend!” He gave a nod, “I see, and who is your fr-“ Everything stopped once the little boy turned to look at him, the ghosts of his friends lingering so vividly in his features. It couldn’t have been though. He didn’t know where Dumbledore had taken him, but surely it wasn’t so close?

Cyra feeling uncomfortable with the silence piped up, “This is Harry! He’s five, but he’s kinda shy.” Remus felt his heart break as Harry managed to muster out, “H-Hi.” This shouldn’t be happening. Where was his guardians? Why was he out in the open where anyone could snatch him up, or hurt him? Realizing that he probably seemed strange, he forced himself to give Harry a smile, “Hello Harry, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Remus Lupin.”

The boy was staring, as if he could recognize him. That was silly though, he was only a year old the last time he had seen him. Cyra grasped onto his coat and tugged it, stealing his attention, “Can I come back and play with Harry again? Please Moony?” They shouldn’t. Dumbledore hid him for a reason. What would he say if he found out?  
  
“Yes, of course.” The words tumbled out, as if he was imperioed to say them. It was what he had wanted though. Glancing back over to the small child on the grass, he knew he couldn’t say no. Knew he couldn’t pass up a chance to see James and Lily’s child. Cyra seemed happy, going back over to hug Harry again before she whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it made Harry’s eyes fill with wonder.

  
Remus took her hand, nodding his head to Harry, “Be safe getting home, young man.” Harry hugged the unicorn close to his chest with a bright smile, “Yes sir!” With that, they were off. Cyra without a doll, and Remus with so many questions.

* * *

The party was a smashing success, if you considered not being set completely on fire a success. The Twins seemed to have decided that her birthday needed to be bigger than their mother had planned. This being the twins, however, bigger obviously meant fireworks. Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks to be exact. How they managed to get hold of these, Remus preferred not to know.

But Cyra seemed to enjoy herself, joyful giggles coming from her place behind the couch as the adults tried to avoid the many explosions. Molly however, was not pleased. And she definitely showed it once she got her hands on the troublesome two.

By the time for cake and presents, Cyra was having the time of her life, her face covered in chocolate. No matter how many times he tried to wipe it. She had spent the first hour of her party showing off her black nails to whoever was willing to see. Remus was now very skilled in painting nails, the bottle of polish now sitting in his satchel.

She had received quite a lot of presents as well, though her obvious favorites were the whole stack of candy that Nymphadora sent her, the very warm sweater that Molly had knitted her, and the fluffy black dog plush that Dumbledore had sent her. It gave him a bit of panic to think that perhaps the elder wizard knew that she had given her favorite plush to Harry. But he hadn’t said a word to him about it during the party, and nothing seemed to be up. Cyra adored it though, hugging it to her chest and announcing loudly that, “His name will be Snuffles!”

These naming conventions, do they ever get better, he wondered. Apparently Snuffles had a secret too, charmed to not give off warmth when hugged, but also to release a relaxing scent as well. It was brilliant. For any other child, it would be assumed that this would assist in calming them down. But for a child like Cyra, it would be a huge help of providing her a sense of comfort when she gets stressed out.

McGonagall had given her many dresses, all charmed to fit her when she places them on. Surprisingly, though he did not attend, Snape had even sent a present to her. A whole box of macaroons, as well as a potion to assist her if she got a stomach ache.

In the note, it truly read as if the man himself was speaking, _‘Do not eat them all at once. Considering you are a child however; those words will have no meaning to you. I have prepared a solution to save Lupin’s flooring in the case that you decide to not heed my warning. Drink it.’_

As he predicted, Cyra tossed the note and proceeded to shove two macaroons into her mouth. He did have to take away the box, however. His floorboards being ruined was one thing, the Weasley’s who had so graciously hosted this party was another.

The present he did not like, not one bit, was the twins. No, not the fireworks. That was apparently just the show. The real present was both of them getting down on one knee and promising to marry her. Everyone was so amused, Remus was not. They even had managed to get a candy ring, for merlin’s sake! And before he could speak his disapproval, Cyra had accepted it, allowing them to slip the ring onto her hand as her guardian lost his mind in the background.

“Well then, I look forward to a triad marriage in the future, Remus.” Dumbledore jested, seeming to find great amusement in his suffering. He even decided to poke the bear one more time, “Cyra really does not do things simply. Most people take one groom, she’s taken two! Very impressive.” Remus really did not like those twins, not one bit.


	9. Candy and Muddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you are all enjoying the story! I simply cannot leave a day alone without me coming up with more ideas for Cyra. I've even got a spotify list for her at this point! Anyway, please enjoy!

She was upset, he could understand that. The full moon always brought out the worst of him as well, though he’s had experience to control it over the years. She was dealing with it now, and he couldn’t judge her for it. Especially when right after a tantrum, she’d come back and apologize. He didn’t let it bother him.

What did, however, was seeing her mope around the cabin. Her birthday was just last week, and it was a grand time, proposals aside. But sadly, the joy had to end when she couldn’t go back to the Weasley’s until after the cycle was done. He didn’t want to risk her snapping on the boys, or worse, having a sudden magical outburst. She hadn’t had any accidents yet, and it did begin to worry him, though he assured himself that perhaps she’s just a late bloomer.

But that was beside the point, his charge was depressed, and he would not listen to another sigh from the child. Snatching up his satchel, he stomped his way over to the pouting child, “Alright, grab Snuffles, we’re going to get you some sweets.” There it was, the magic word. He saw the light enter her eyes before she snatched up that poor stuffed dog and ran over to the floo.

* * *

Sugarplum's Sweets Shop was a very large emporium dedicated to the sweet tooths in Diagon Alley. And it just so happened to be Cyra’s new favorite place. Remus stood off to the side, allowing her to explore the many shelves of candies and sweets, his own bag of chocolate already filled. Snuffles was safely tucked beneath his arm. Seeing her disappear behind the aisle of magical candies, he went ahead to go and pay, patting himself on the back for a successful idea.

Cyra was in sugar heaven, taking a sample sweet and deciding if she liked it or not before filling part of her bag with it, then moving onto the next. She had to be sure to treat Moony extra nice after this, and be sure to try and not throw anymore fits. Lost in the exhilaration, she didn’t notice the presence behind her before it was too late.

_“Hello there, little one.”_

The voice caused her whole body to freeze, stuck in the position of reaching for the next compartment of sweets. Letting out a shaking breath, she kept her eyes pinned directly on the glass, seeing the monster that towered over her in the reflection. He was back. She was now very aware of his presence, panic sinking in as he shifted himself closer to her.

“Do you like candy, little one? I have a bunch back home.”

His hand slipped slowly over her shoulder, gently as if not to frighten her, it was too late though. Her sight became blurry with tears, her hands beginning to tremble as she remembered the claws that tore apart her flesh. They were on her again. He was going to hurt her.

“You want some? You can have as much candy as you want, if you win my little game.”

She felt the bile rise in her throat; she really didn’t want to play another game. Where was Moony? She wanted her Moony. Feeling the hand slip to her chest, she wondered if he could feel her heart pounding frantically within it. As he leaned in, she could feel his breath on her ear, the bite on her shoulder beginning to burn.

“Well? _Do you want to play a game?”_

Something broke, a scream tearing through her as burning white exploded from her and blew the monster far away from her body. She could hear his pained grunt, followed after by the sound of shattering glass, raining down all around her. Before she could look up, she felt arms thrown around her, the calming scent of her Moony rushing her senses.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Cyra. I-I’m so sorry. It’s okay, I’m here. I swear.”

He was crying? She was fine though, she defeated the monster, shouldn’t he be happy? Hugging him back, she realized she was still shaking, something wet falling down her cheeks. She was crying too. Adults began surrounding them, shouting, “Stupefy!” Glancing up, she saw they were using the spell against the monster that had attacked her.

But, as the light shined on his face, she realized it wasn’t her monster at all. It was someone she had never seen before. Moony shoved her face back into his jumper before she could see more. He kept repeating apologies to her, holding her tightly to his form. She didn’t know why, he had nothing to be sorry about.

Remus could have killed the wizard, a curse on the tip of his tongue as he held his pup tightly to him. She was hyperventilating, still in shock from the situation. He couldn’t imagine how she must have been feeling. He abandoned her, he took his eyes off of her and she got hurt. His instincts screamed at him to tear the man’s throat out, but he managed to retain control. Cyra didn’t need to witness more violence, and he couldn’t bear to let her go right now.

Hearing footsteps on the broken glass, he shot his head up, pressing his pup closer to his chest. Standing before him was Mr. Roger Sugarplum, the owner. Mustering up the ability to stutter out an apology, he barely even got it out before Mr. Sugarplum crouched down to them, his old knees shaking.

“Accidental Magic is very scary when it happens to you. Lucky for you little miss that yours protected you. Though I am ashamed that this happened in my shop.”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a chocolate bar, before holding it out to Cyra with a kind smile. Cyra turned around in his arms, staring at the offering before she took it, muttering a quiet thanks. They watched as she slowly peeled it open with her small hands before she began nibbling on the bar, her trembling beginning to ease off.

“My shop is supposed to be a safe place for all boys and girls, and I cannot emphasize how sorry I am that this happened.” The old man’s smile had fallen, looking around at the mess around the shop. Slipping a coiling wand out of his inside pocket, he gave it a flick, the glass all hovering in the air before quickly repairing, the candy all filing themselves back into their compartments. Turning back to the pair, he held a sadness in his dark eyes.

“No apology could dare repair the damage that must have been done.” He began, “A flick of the wand can’t sort this out as easily.” Remus gave a slow nod, looking down at his charge worried, though she didn’t seem to notice as she was chomping through the candy bar. As if something struck, Mr. Sugarplum’s eyes lit back up with the childish glint that always appeared every day in the shop. Hopping up, he brushed off his striped suit.

“No, no apology could resolve this. So, I suppose a lifetime of candy ought to do.”

Remus gave another nod before it finally hit him what the man just said, scrambling up to his feet, holding Cyra in his arms, “I-I’m sorry, what? Sir, we could ne-“

“Posh! I have to take responsibility, my dear boy! Therefore, no matter how much candy this little miss desires, she’ll get it on the house!” Mr. Sugarplum decided, taking his cane and tapping it on the floor, a gesture that stated his decision was final.

Remus wasn’t sure if he was so adamant to do this because he truly felt that guilty, or if because he did not think that Cyra’s love for candy would live on forever. Most kids did grow out of it, after all. Remus knew better though. Mr. Sugarplum just signed a life debt.

* * *

Cyra had left the shop with much more sweets than Remus had planned for, though he knew that this should be enough to get them through the full moon, perhaps even after to recoup. He did make a note to make sure she doesn’t abuse this new privilege she has, he couldn’t risk Cyra becoming spoiled, like a Malfoy.

“Quite a show, Lupin. Even now, it seems trouble just seems to find you.”

The drawling voice stopped him in his tracks, “ _Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear._ ” He muttered beneath his breath. As he faced the wizard, he tucked Cyra closer to his side, though he was surprised to see a mini clone of Lucius trailing behind him. Redirecting his attention back to the man, he raised a brow, “Well you’d know all about trouble, wouldn’t you Malfoy?”

The blonde’s lips quirked up in what seemed to be amusement, approaching them with slow steps, his eyes sliding down to gaze at Cyra. Feeling his stare, she raised her head, holding it up defiantly. Lucius seemed to look for something in her face, his brows furrowed, “And who is this?” Remus narrowed his eyes, his grip on the sweets bag tightening, “That is none of your business.”

His words earned him a condescending tsk, Malfoy’s lips turning up into sneer as he returned his gaze to him, “Oh? Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Draco should be calling her cousin.” He mocked him, noticing the flinch that Remus was unable to hide.

“But even so, the daughter of a blood traitor is a blood traitor nonetheless. Such a shame.”

He definitely did not sound disappointed at all. Letting out a shuddering sigh, he forced himself to hold eye contact with the pureblood, “She is not his.” Lucius responded with a snicker, shaking his head, “Oh but of course I know that. How is your little.. _partner?_ He’s away, is he? In..Azkaban?”

Remus didn’t respond, glaring at him heatedly. Lucius rose his brow in a challenge, “Done any visits lately? I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you. Perhaps you could even reminisce about the good times?” He was prodding at Remus’s nerves, toying with him as if he was prey, seeing how he could get him to potentially snap. Remus’s teeth were gritted, taking in small breaths to keep calm.

“Would you like some candy?”

The voice cut through the tension, both wizards looking down to see Cyra extending a lollipop to the small Malfoy. Lucius seemed to panic as his son took it with ease, shooting the older girl a bright smile. “Draco.” He spoke down to him a warning tone. Draco looked up at his father quickly before his eyes widened, quickly looking back to Cyra, “I can’t thank you because you are tainted.” Remus felt almost bad for the child, he seemed to not even understand what he was saying, still speaking to Cyra with a polite tone.

Cyra gave a nod before she paused, “What?” She tilted her head, trying to decipher what the boy meant, “Tainted?” Remus didn’t say a word, watching as the Malfoy heir tried to figure out how to explain it. “It means dirty, I think.” He offered, though he didn’t seem entirely sure in himself.

Cyra responded by scrunching up her nose in distaste, something Remus knew as a sign that she was about to be very snarky. Puffing out her chest at the boy, she huffed out, “Well, that is very hypocritical of you.” Hypocritical, eh? He imagined she heard that word from him before, it was still a very big word for a seven-year-old. It was now Draco’s turn to be confused, blinking at Cyra. She seemed to be radiating cockiness as she responded by pointing at his shoes, “Your shoes. They are horrendously muddy.” Horrendously? Remus did his best not to laugh. He couldn’t believe his pup was copying him, and using it to outsmart a Malfoy?

Lucius, seemingly horrified, snatched his wand out of his cane before flicking them towards Draco’s loafers, the mud dissipating. “Come Draco.” He snatched up his son’s hand, shooting Remus a sneer, “Let us not waste any more time.” Without another word, he dragged off the child, stomping off in defeat. Once they were gone, Remus couldn’t resist letting out a guffaw, his body shaking with laughter. Cyra kept her chest jutting out, her eyes glinting with delight as he tried to gather himself together.

Once he had settled down, he bent down, placing a kiss at the top of her head. “Very good,” He praised her, “But let’s not make this a common occurrence, understood?” He knew infuriating the Malfoy’s would not be wise. Once she gave him her promise, they were back off to the cabin to enjoy their candy.  
  



	10. Confusion

“We’ll need your signature here, Mr. Lupin.”

Remus was brought out of his daze by the ministry worker placing the scroll on the desk, pointing at the empty line. Taking a deep breath, he snatched up the quill from the desk, scratching his signature elegantly onto the parchment. He watched in surprise as it glowed brightly for a moment before disappearing, the ink sinking into the paper permanently.

Glancing back up, he looked at the worker curiously, “Is that all?” She shook her head before scooting the scroll over to where Cyra was, waiting. The girl said nothing, her eyes downcast as she held Snuffles tightly to her chest. He let out a sigh, taking Cyra’s small hand in his, “Cyra, are you sure you want to do this? I won’t blame you if you wish not to. You can stay an Owens, I won’t take offense.” Her only response was shaking her head, squeezing his hand tightly. She had said she wanted this, wanted him to be more than just a guardian.

Sparing a look towards the worker, he leaned down to whisper in Cyra’s ear, “She won’t hurt you. I’m here. And after this, you can go play with the twins.” At that, her eyes lit up, her hand sliding out of his to take the quill from the desk. The worker stopped her however, “No, not _that_. She has a different signature.” With that, the worker slid out a drawer behind the desk before producing a needle. Remus recoiled, anger beginning to form, “Excuse me!? That’s absolutely barbaric!”

His words did nothing to offend the worker, who simply stared at him stoically, “It’s just a quick prick. She’ll barely feel it.” Cyra’s were locked onto the needle with wide eyes, retreating into the chair, her legs being pulled into her chest. The sight of her cowering only fueled the fire inside Remus, his eyes narrowing on the worker, “What is the meaning of this?”

With a roll of her eyes, she placed a hand on the parchment, pointing directly to a part of the clause, “Cyra Owens will become your child, meaning your blood. In order for that to happen, she has to sign with a droplet of her own. This shows not only the consent, but it is required for magic to recognize her as yours.” Remus gave a huff, hating the reasonable answer he was given, wanting to just be mad that the worker even though a part of him knew she wasn’t responsible for it.

He turned around to tell her she didn’t need to do this, but she was already reaching out for the needle. He couldn’t form a word as she extended her finger for the worker to prick, which the woman seemed to be pleased by. With a quick stab, Cyra let out a yelp, causing Remus to nearly launch himself at the woman. He managed restraint however, watching Cyra rub the droplet onto the blank parchment. Much like his signature, the bloody mark glowed before sinking into the paper.

Procuring a plaster from his satchel, he quickly took her finger and wrapped it in the colorful rainbow bandage. Cyra gave him a small smile, before she took her hand back to cuddle Snuffles. The worker took the scroll back while they were distracted, slipping out her wand and proceeding to do some enchantments over it. Remus simply watched, the anger slowly ebbing away as he watched the runes hover above in the air. It was truly mesmerizing, the runes slowly rotating around each other before they sank into the paper much like the ink.

With a satisfied hum, the woman turned the scroll back around to him, Cyra’s name at the top was blurring, the ink beginning to move around as if it was made up of small worms. Once they were still, the name appeared once again, changed. ‘Cyra Owens Lupin’ stood out on the parchment in large black scripture, he didn’t know how something so simple could cause tears to surface, but it did. Cyra was his now, his pup, his daughter. With a sniffle, he quickly wiped his eyes and looked down at her with a smile, “What do you think?” Cyra stared at the parchment for a moment before turning back to smile at him. Her father.

The moment was broken by the worker giving a laugh, “I just noticed how ironic her name is!” They turned back to her with confusion. She continued to giggle before noticing the looks, going silent, “Oh. Do you not know?” Remus simply raised a brow, waiting for her to explain. The woman was giddy for the first time after spending an hour with ‘beasts’, as she had called them. Unable to resist a smile, she pointed at the name, “Cyra Lupin. The meaning of her name is, ‘Born in the light,’ otherwise known as Sun. Her last name means Wolfish, or Wolf. She’s a werewolf who was born in the light, but lives beneath the moon. Sun Wolf.”

After a moment of silence, she looked at them both to see they were unamused, the smile wiping off her face, “Right, well. I suppose it’s not as ironic as being named _Wolf Wolf_ , but I found it rather funny.” Smoothing her hair back into the coif it was in, she rolled the scroll back up, waving a hand in their direction, “You may leave. I’ll file this with the department later today. Enjoy your family or whatever.”

Remus simply stood, grabbing his satchel and swinging it over his head before taking Cyra’s hand, “Thank you for your time.” They walked out, the worker’s words echoing behind them. A family. They were a family now.

* * *

Cyra ignored the twin brothers as they whispered among themselves, her hearing could pick up every thing they said, but she pretended she could not.

“He wouldn’t notice. He barely uses it!”

“Right, his nose is always stuck in that dragon book.”

“We’d just have to make sure Percy doesn’t see.”

“Steal his glasses?”

“Maybe.”

Letting out a sigh, she glanced up from her book, knowing she’d regret this, “Percy is in his room at the moment, he had a stomachache earlier.” Identical blue eyes shot in her direction, widening in wonder at her, “How do you know that?”

She paused for a moment, realizing that she couldn’t just say that she had heard it downstairs, normal people couldn’t hear that far. Quickly coming up with an excuse, she blurted out, “I saw him. On my way to the bathroom. He was holding his stomach and going into his room.” They bought it, thank merlin, giving a nod. 

“Well then.” Fred began, a devilish smile beginning to form that caused Cyra’s stomach to drop. George invaded into her personal space, sporting the same smile, “Want to join us, Cyra?” She felt her lips twitch into a nervous smile, “Well..what are you doing?” The boys shared a look together before rushing to her sides, a hand cupping each ear as they whispered to her. From an outside view, one would think they were simply children plotting a little prank, but one look at Cyra’s face would show the trouble that about to occur.

* * *

She couldn’t believe she was doing this; how could she have let them talk her into such a scheme? Wringing her hands nervously in front of her, she shuffled into Charlie and Bill’s room. The teenage boys attention was instantly stolen from her, causing her to feel immensely guilty as they gave her such comforting smiles. How could she do this to them? Biting her lip, she shuffled herself further in the room, looking between the boys to figure out which would be an easier target.

Deciding on Charlie, she pointed at his book, watching him look down to it once again. Charlie catching on, shot her an excited smile, “You wanna learn about the dragons!?” Bill let out a scoff, shaking his head before turning back to his studies. Cyra swayed a bit on feet, her eyes as wide as a doe before she gave a quick nod. In his excitement, he bent down, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up onto the bed next to him, “Well lemme show you!” Cyra’s heart was racing, feeling immensely uncomfortable about being suddenly lifted up. She supposed Moony did it all the time, but that was different, he was.. her dad? Yes, he was her dad.

Charlie didn’t seem to notice, repositioning the book so she could see, pointing at a picture on the book, “This, little Cyra, is a Hebridean Black, beautiful isn’t it?” She studied the page with interest, looking over the detailed scales before she noticed the dragon’s tail, “It’s an arrow?” Charlie let out an chuckle, vibrating Cyra’s back, “Good eye. The Hebridean Black is a dragon native to Britain, similar to the Welsh Green, only this one is much more aggressive. That tail is actually a spike.” She reached out the trace the page, looking at the dragon in wonder, “What else?” He hugged her closer, using the arm wrapped around her to point at the dragon, “This dragon can get up to 30 ft long, their diet is deer, though you’ll occasionally see them snatching off cows.”

Cyra let out a giggle at the thought of such a large dragon just swooping in and snatching a cow off the fields. The thirteen-year-old seemed pleased with her amusement, flipping to the next page, “Next, the Ukrainian Ironbelly, this is the largest breed in the world.”

Cyra soon grew distracted, listening to Charlie ramble about dragons for the next hour as she leaned in to his warmth. Her eyes kept flicking from the book to the redhead, starry-eyed as he trailed on. It wasn’t until she heard the shuffling outside the door that she looked away, seeing the twins staring at her in anticipation. Oh, that’s right. She had a job to do.

“Now, you remember me mentioning the Hungarian-“ Charlie was cut off when there was a tight squeeze around his chest, dropping the book to look down at the young girl. Cyra felt her cheeks flush as she realized how humiliating this situation was, blurting out, “Thank you for teaching me! C-Can I maybe learn more next time?” Her voice softened at the end, her hand slipping to his pocket. Charlie glanced over at Bill who was staring at the pair in shock, before he shot his brother a smug smile and hugged the girl back, “Of course pet, anytime!”

With that, she pulled away, letting her dark curls cover her face as she hopped off the bed and hurried out. The twins had to jump out of the way to keep her from bulldozing them over. Once she was in their room again, she dropped to the carpeted floor, covering her face in embarrassment. The boys soon entered after her, watching as she sat there mumbling to herself. Fred soon had enough and poked her in the shoulder, “Cyra? Did you get it?” The girl let out a huff, before she took her hands away from her face, reaching into her jumper sleeve. The twins felt confused as they saw how red her face was, but it was immediately replaced with joy as the wand came into their view.

“You’re a genius Cyra!” They shouted in unison, snatching up the wand to look at it in awe. She merely responded with a hum, placing her hands back over her face. They refused to let her mope, linking an arm into hers before dragging her down the stairs, “Come on then! Mum told us to set the table!”

* * *

Cyra watched unamused at the fork slowly levitating in the air, before it found its place at the table, falling with a loud clatter. George let out a cheer before handing the wand off to Fred, “Your turn!” Fred gave him a grin, waving Charlie’s wand over at the spoon next, “Windguardium Leviosa!”

With a slight waver, the spoon slowly descended in the air, going above Cyra’s head before being dropped unceremoniously onto the table. She tried her best not to smile, not wanting to give them the satisfaction, despite how cool it was. Fred found his way next to her, taking her hand to put the wand in it. “Come on, Cyra. You should have some fun too.” He spoke softly, giving her hand a squeeze. His twin seemed to notice her mood, hurrying over to her other side, “Yeah, Cyra, we couldn’t have done this without you.” He carefully tucked a curl behind her ear, a comforting gesture that he had developed for her.

Finding herself unable to be angry at them, she raised the wand over at the cutlery, “Windguardiam Leviosa!” It took a lot longer, but slowly the knife had rose up, going up high into the air. She felt herself begin to sweat as she struggled to keep ahold of it, carefully moving it over to the table.  
  
“You’re doing it Cyra! Look at you!” Fred whispered excitedly into her ear, watching the knife in awe.

“You’re doing magic!” George finished his brother’s sentence, a large grin forming as he saw it above their heads.

Cyra could feel her heart racing, it was going much slower than the twin’s did, but perhaps it was because she wasn’t related to Charlie that the wand didn’t respond as well to her? She felt the sweat drip down her back as she saw it above their heads, her arm extended to keep ahold of it.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

She jumped, dropping her arm quickly, the wand falling to the ground behind her, her eyes darting over to the owner of the voice. It was Percy, glaring at the trio disapprovingly, “I should-“ He was cut off when something fell down past Cyra’s sight, she watched confused as Percy’s eyes widened in horror.

The twins let out a shout, grabbing her in panic, “CYRA!” She looked around, even more confused what was happening. Parting her lips to speak, that was when she felt it. Looking down at the ground, she saw the knife she had been levitating, sitting at her feet in a puddle of blood. Blood. Oh no.

The twins began screaming, tugging her over to the kitchen table to sit down.

“WHERE IS MUM!?”

Percy began stammering, grabbing onto the wall, “S-She said she was running out real quick, B-Bill’s in charge.” As if on cue, the eldest Weasley appeared at the bottom of the stairs, “Oi! What’s all the shouting about!?” It was then he saw Cyra, rushing over, “Oh no! Oh no! Sweetie, what happened?” She went to speak, but he held up his hand, “No, no! Don’t speak! It might make it worse!” He turned to the twins with blazing eyes, “WHAT HAPPENED!?” They soon joined Percy in their stammering, tears filling their eyes as they tried to explain what happened to their friend.

“Oi, anyone seen my wa-“

Cyra really wanted to curl up and die the moment she heard his voice, the teen scurrying over to her to crouch down next to Bill, “Oh no! Are you okay!?” She went to apologize, her eyes tearing up, but he quickly stopped her, “No! Don’t speak! It might make it worse.” She could only roll her eyes, causing the tears to fall down her cheeks.

Bill turned to Charlie with a stern stare, “Charlie, you’re better at healing spells than I am.” He gave a quick nod, “Right, right, I need my wand. Do you lot know where it is?” Bill pointed behind him, causing him to whirl around and see the twins standing their sheepishly, holding out the wand to him. Charlie gave them a little smirk, “Troublemakers, gimme that.” He took it back before he gave his attention back to Cyra, tilting her head up by her blood-stained chin, “Alright, look up pet. Yes, like that.” Cyra kept letting the tears fall, her small body trembling. Charlie shushed her, softening his voice, “Hush now, it’s okay. Now, I might be the better one at spells, but I’m still not perfect. You may be left with a scar. For that, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t care, she was used to scars, it was the shame and guilt that ate at her. Charlie began fixing her up, taking his time so he didn’t hurt her, vanishing the blood on her person once he was finished. The brothers hovered around, staring down at her in worry. Cyra looked at Charlie, shaking in her seat, “I-I’m sorry..” He felt his heart break at how small she sounded, letting out a sigh before he pulled her into a hug, “Don’t worry pet, I know the naughty troublemakers made you do it.” Said troublemakers shouted in offense, hurrying over to her sides.

“Hey now! We didn’t mean for Cyra to get hurt!” Fred puffed out his chest, glaring down at his older brother. George nodded furiously, copying him, “Yeah! We would never hurt our Cyra!” Charlie raised a brow at them, “ _Your_ Cyra?” Cyra let out a groan, hiding her face in his shoulder.

“Yeah, our Cyra!” They shouted in unison, before they began to attempt to tug them apart. “Speaking of-“ Fred began, “You should let go of her!” George finished. Charlie let out a laugh, before he picked the small girl up, standing at full height to put them at a disadvantage. “Now, now, boys. Scared I’ll steal your bride?” He watched as the twin’s turned pink, “Let her go!”

Bill came to his side, nudging him with a grin, and he immediately understood the message. Handing her off to Bill, he shouted, “Rescue the Princess!” Cyra let out a cry as the eldest brother ran off with her, his chest vibrating deeply with laughter. She spotted the twins over his shoulder, running after them with loud shouts.

“GIVE HER BACK, YA BUGGER!”

Bill’s laughter only increased as he took off out the back door, running out into the garden, though he made sure to hold onto her securely. Soon enough, all the Weasley’s were out in the field, chasing after their oldest brother. Excluding Ron and Ginny, of course, who were off with their mother. Their mother who was sure to have a fit when she came home.

The game seemed to be rather unfair, not for any of the brothers, but for her. She could only let out an oomph as she was tossed back and forth between the brother’s arms, kept out of the grasp from the twins. Percy was off to the side, standing beneath a tree and shouting that he would tell their Mum the moment she came home.

Cyra couldn’t help but admit she was having fun, however. Soon, the grumpy sounds turned into laughter as she was occasionally tossed up into the air and caught like a quaffle. The twins eventually got sick of trying to catch her, instead making the plan to just ram into their brothers with all of their might. It was a reasonable plan, however, Cyra was also heading to the ground during the fall.

As if they had inhuman speed, they threw themselves at her, rolling in the grass. Then they kept on rolling, down the hill that was inconveniently placed there. When they reached the bottom, they were thrown apart, laughter bursting from their chests as they laid on their backs.

Cyra’s face was flushed, grass and leaves stuck in her hair, her eyes locked onto the sky. Her heart was pounding in her chest from the adrenaline, laughter continuing to escape her as she struggled to catch her breath. The twins soon came into her field of view, looking down at her with identical grins.

Her eyes flicked back and forth between the both of them, “What?” Fred was the first to speak, his ears turning red, “You’re pretty when you laugh.” George looked at his twin curiously before looking back down at her, not looking a bit bashful “Yeah, you are. You should laugh all the time.”

Cyra laid there for a moment before she smiled brightly at the pair, “That was fun!” Fred and George simply smiled back before looking at each other, seeming to share a thought as their smiles grew into something else. Without another word, they ducked down out of her sight, laying on both sides of her.

“There you three are! You alright?” Cyra turned her head to see Bill standing at the top of the hill, giving him a thumbs up. Sitting herself up, she brushed off the grass on her clothes, though she didn’t bother with her hair. When she went to stand up, her arms were snatched by hands. Turning around in shock, she saw the twins staring at her with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

They didn’t respond, sitting up and wrapping their arms tightly around her. Cyra was very confused, but she just let them do as they wished. After some time, she spoke up, “Fred? George?”

“You won’t leave us right?”

She tried to turn her head to the twin who spoke, but it was very difficult to see his face, “Of course Fred.” He gave her a tighter squeeze in response. George finally moved his face into her view, smiling at her, “You’re going to be with us forever?” Okay, what was going on?

Cyra knew the right answer must be to just agree, of course she was going to be with them forever, they were friends. Returning the smile, she replied, “Yes, George, I’ll be with you two forever.” Fred eventually lifted his head at that, looking at her, though he wasn’t smiling like his brother.

“You’re the only one who can tell us apart, you know?”

Cyra looked away at that, she knew they were very sensitive about their family not telling them apart. She could do it because of their scents. Though it was similar, both had a certain note that helped her separate them. She didn’t respond, she didn’t need to.

They both squeezed her tightly, surrounding her senses with the smell of sweat, the underlying scent of cherries and oranges sneaking in. She couldn’t resist them, they were held so close to her heart, like they were her pack.

“We’ve gotta go, you know?” She finally whispered, reaching up to pat them on the back like Moony did for her.

The boys simply clung to her. Letting out a dramatic sigh, she flopped back on the grass, taking them with her. She figured she might as well take a nap, the warmth they radiated off causing her to drift off. The last thing she remembered was the feel of lips on both of her cheeks.

* * *

“How did this happen?”

Cyra shuffled her feet awkwardly as Remus examined her face, raising his brow as he waited for an explanation. She knew the moment she saw herself in the mirror, there was no going about him not noticing. On the left side of her mouth was a scar that ran through her top and bottom lip. Though it wasn’t as awful as her others, it was still visible.

Remus waited patiently, releasing her chin and sitting back, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor. Cyra looked around the room, wracking her brain for an idea, a way to explain this without getting in trouble.

“Um..mischief?”

So many things confused her that day. But the most confusing thing was, why did Remus look so horrified at her words?


	11. Baking and Sleepovers

He felt old, Cyra was already eight years old now, and she had begun to hit what McGonagall called, ‘The Independent Milestone’. His old head of house was kind enough to mail a book to him that explained what was to be expected in these next occurring years. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he panicked when Cyra began pulling away from his affections, writing quickly to McGonagall for advice, asking what he had done wrong.

She wasn’t going to be as clingy anymore, beginning to create her own bubble, and craving more privacy. Not only that, but she was emotionally developing. The other week, she had accidentally left her chocolates by the window, coming back to find them all melted by the sunlight. He wanted to comfort her so bad, but he had watched as she worked through the frustration, her facial expressions changing rapidly as she was fighting the tears. Then, it was as if it had never happened, she just simply got a different candy and moved on.

He was immensely proud, but at the same time, terrified. He never felt more ridiculous than when she sat _him_ down to have a discussion, though he really wasn’t intimidated by a little girl still clinging to her dog plush, even if he tried to keep a straight face. She had recently decided to start calling him by a parental name, but wanted to know what was acceptable. He felt like he was in a conference meeting, was his daughter seriously asking him what name he _consented_ to?

He almost lost it when she brought out a list, proceeding to read off the names she had written down on sparkly pink paper. The decision was ‘Papa’, a name he found absolutely adorable to hear coming from her. When they were finished, she thanked him for coming before going off to go play with her potions set. This was his house, and she _thanked_ him for coming.

She had truly begun to grow before his very eyes. Though, he had wondered if she would ever break out of her shyness. She was not bad around the crowd of people that they knew, but she instantly shrunk back into herself the moment it was somebody new.

He was happy to see her spend time with Harry, who seemed to gain a bit of courage by speaking with her. It wasn’t until the day that he took her to the park and he didn’t show up, that she had her first tantrum. Not her usual fits, but an actual tantrum. She seemed to have adopted Harry as a little brother, he tried not to think of the irony that one marauder child was instinctively protective of another.

But, no matter how many times they visited, he never returned. Cyra refused to give up, returning there every Friday until her eighth birthday came around. She had sulked around the cabin for some time, not wishing to speak to him or anyone else. He honestly did not know what happened, he worried that Dumbledore caught on and hid Harry someplace else. Perhaps Harry’s guardians caught on that he was missing each Friday? He would never know. All that mattered is that Harry was safe, which the last time he inquired to Dumbledore, he was.

Letting out a sigh, he threw his head back on the couch, running a hand over his face. There was one last thing that he was dealing with. A problem that he didn’t even know he had until Mrs. Weasley had notified him. Apparently Cyra had a staring problem. She watched Mrs. Weasley each time she baked, and at first the woman had found it adorable, but now she was being thrown off.

She had believed it was because Cyra wanted the sweets she was making, but no, she even watched the clean up as well. No child cared about the mess. But his Cyra did, apparently. He didn’t notice it, but how could he? He cooked all the time and not once did she ever stare like Mrs. Weasley described. To experiment, he decided at random to make brownies. He announced it to Cyra like he typically did before he made a meal. But this time, it was as if he triggered something.

Next thing he knew, he was stiffly stirring the batter, feeling uncomfortable under the child’s gaze. She said nothing. It would have been better if she at least spoke. He tried to form a conversation with her, but she simply gave short answers before continuing her staring act.

He understood what Molly had meant when she told him it was like she was looking right through you. It was as if he was a ghost that she couldn’t see. There had to be something up. He really hoped it wasn’t something related to trauma. He had done his best to help her, reading muggle child psychology books. They learned coping mechanisms, some he even administered to when the full moon was arriving. It was all very helpful.

Once the baking and cleanup was over, she had snatched up a brownie and retreated into her room. It wasn’t until her door had shut with a click that he sagged in relief, grateful to be from under her piercing gaze. Now he sat here, wondering what in merlin was going on with the child.

“Papa?”

Jerking out of his seat, he snapped his head in her direction, eyes wide. When did she sneak up on him? Cyra stood before him, amber colored eyes staring into him much like she did the day he was baking. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, he glanced away, “What is it love?” Merlin, why does she stare like that? What was she seeing exactly? He didn’t understand what could make an eight-year-old look so intense.

“I want to learn how to bake.”

 _What?_ He turned back to his daughter in shock, unsure if he had said that out loud. She shuffled her feet for a moment, her eyes still piercing into him as she repeated herself, “I want to learn how to bake, Papa.” He didn’t look away this time, looking into the eyes that matched his own. That’s what it was. Determination. She had been staring at them this entire time with the desire to learn what they were doing, how they were doing it.

But she didn’t ask to help, which was curious. Was she scared she’d be shut down? He would have preferred her offering to help over being creepily stared at for two hours, but that was in the past. Giving her a reassuring smile, he reached over to take her hand, “Very well. Let’s get you a recipe book.” Her intense vibe softened instantaneously, squeezing his hand with excitement, “Thank you!”

Though he had given his blessing, he was _very_ worried. Should an eight-year-old be allowed to bake? While Cyra was getting ready for their trip to the bookstore, he had quickly scribbled a letter to McGonagall. By the time they had arrived back, so did the owl. As Cyra began flipping through the book, he snatched up the letter and read through it quickly.

_Dear Remus,_

_Yes, this is very normal for her age. There is nothing to worry about. During this time, they want to begin doing things by themselves. Though I find it curious that she’s taken an interest in a hobby like baking. This could be a very good skill for her to achieve. But, do not leave her alone in the kitchen. She must be supervised at all times. Allow her the freedom to create something, but still hover in case something goes wrong. As well as be sure to offer her assistance if she may need it._

_-Minerva McGonagall_

Letting out a sigh of relief, he tossed the letter on the dining room table before he followed the small child into the kitchen, “So what have we decided upon?” Cyra turned to him with that intense stare once again, the creepy factor already worn off now that it had meaning behind it.  
  
“I should start small. Build up. I’m going to make cookies.”

Yes, that was very reasonable. He couldn’t help but feel proud at her thinking process. He simply stood back as she began to gather the ingredients, adding in, “If you need any help, I’ll be here.” Her only response was a hum, gathering up the supplies in her small arms.

Placing the large bowl down, she soon realized her height disadvantage, her head barely grazing the counter. Remus bent down to grab the climbing stool he had gotten for her, placing it next to her. Cyra’s eyes lit up as he gave her the solution, shooting him a quick, “Thank you Papa!” Before she climbed up and began working.

Despite McGonagall’s comforting words, he was still worried, watching her adamantly to make sure she wasn’t getting hurt. During his parental watch, he realized something. Cyra was very good about following instructions. She measured the sugar and butter evenly, making sure to double check the recipe book before proceeding each time.

The only thing she struggled with was the egg. Despite her many efforts, she just could not get the egg to crack and stay together for her to plop in the bowl. Her hands were now covered in the buttery mix, making it even more difficult to grasp the eggs.

Seeing the mess of yolk on his floor, he was tempted to help her, but he restrained himself. He had to let her do this on her own, or choose to ask for his help. With an agitated huff, she took the last egg in the carton, taking her time as she cracked it on the edge of the bowl. It was a gentle tap, then another with bit more strength. Then he heard it, the crack. He waited with baited breath as she slowly brought it over the bowl and broke it open, all the insides pouring into the bowl, and no shell.

“Yes!” He shouted without realizing, causing Cyra to jump and whip around to look at him. She didn’t seem angry though, the smile bright on her face as she held the shells triumphantly. After that, she did everything herself, buttering the cookie tray, placing them 2 inches apart like the book said. The only time she asked him for help was when she needed to place them in the oven, too scared to touch it while it was hot.

He happily accepted, taking the tray of cookies and sliding them in. Once the time was set and ticking down, he watched as she began the cleanup. Though she didn’t ask for his assistance, he may have used his wand to vanish the yolk off the floor.

Once the cookies were finished, Remus took them out and placed them on the stove top to cool. Two showers and some new pajamas later, the cookies were ready for them to eat. He allowed her the first bite, wanting her to savor her first time making something. She was nervous, bringing the large cookie to her mouth before taking a soft nibble. He saw it instantly, her eyes lighting up with delight before she took a larger bite. Eating his, he felt his heart swell with pride. The cookie was delicious. It was just a plain chocolate chip cookie, but it tasted like the best damn cookie he ever had, and it was all because Cyra made it.

Needless to say, the cookies definitely did not last long. But Cyra’s love for baking grew, and Remus refused to stop her. Plus, the sweets were really good, so who was he to complain?

* * *

“No, absolutely not.” 

Cyra’s face fell at his rejection, tugging on his hand once again, “Please Papa!” Remus looked away from her sad eyes, letting out an irritated sigh, “Cyra, I love you. But no, you absolutely _cannot_ spend the night with the twins!” With that, she was silent, no more whining or pleads. Well, that was rather quick in his opinion. When he was a child, he would go on for much longer.

After a couple moments of silence, he risked a glance down, seeing to his surprise that she was gone. Where on earth did she go!? Looking around the room, he spotted her by the couch, sitting herself down with one of the recipe books she possessed. 

Narrowing his eyes, he waited, there _had_ to be more to this. She couldn’t possibly be just letting this go? Just like that? But, after the clock had ticked past 5 minutes, he realized that was it. Cyra had simply just given up. It was then that Remus began thinking back on his words. Was he perhaps too harsh? She seemed to really want to go.

Maybe he had been a bit blinded by his protectiveness. He knew he didn’t really want her to go because there would be almost nothing but boys there. Granted, the twins were only eight, but that didn’t excuse them putting the moves on his daughter every chance they got. Not to mention the little crush on one of Molly’s older boys, oh she thought he didn’t notice, but he did. He saw those little moon eyes she made at him when he spoke about dragons.

At first, he had figured she was really into dragons, another hidden passion maybe? But when he had tried to strike up a conversation about them, she didn’t seem that interested. No, it was the boy. That sneaky little boy who dared to ensnare his pup. Now, the rational side of Remus understood that this infatuation would disappear with time. She’ll realize that boys are gross and hopefully stay single until she was at least thirty. He couldn’t wait for those days.

Coming over to sit beside her, he basked in the silence for a moment before speaking, “Fine. One night.” Cyra slowly looked from her book, raising a brow at him in a very similar fashion to his own. Sometimes he hated how much she acted like him. He shot her a raised brow back, waiting for an answer. With that, she closed the book, placing it carefully to the side. She took a breath to speak, before deciding to simply just hug him. It was the best answer she could supply.

Before he could say more, she was off, snatching up Snuffles from the table. Ah, she had to pack for the sleepover, of course. That made sense. Her sleepover, with the twins. In the same room. Just then, it finally hit Remus what he agreed to. Hopping up from the couch, he almost shouted for her to come back, but he knew it was too late. He agreed. She didn’t even put up a fight, and he just agreed. What kind of game was this child playing, and how did he fall right into her tiny hands!?

* * *

“This is going to be great, Cyra!”

“Yeah! I can’t believe Mr. Lupin agreed to let you stay!”

Cyra stood off to the corner, watching the twins as they pushed junk around their room in an attempt to clean up. They were positively beaming with delight, and it wasn’t until she noticed they were moving the nightstand from between the beds that she spoke, “Why are you moving that?” In unison, they both turned to her, attempting their best to look innocent.

“Why, to push our beds together, of course!” Fred replied, his twin simply nodding along. When Cyra said nothing else, they went back to scooting the nightstand across the wood, causing the most horrible squeaks to invade Cyra’s hearing. With a wince, she covered her ears, pushing herself against the wall in hopes of being further away from the sound.

Once it was over, she looked over the mess that the twins had created. The nightstand was now off to the side against the bookcase, their beds pressed clumsily together, and dust flying everywhere. Taking a step closer, she noticed the scuff marks on the floor, knowing Mrs. Weasley would not be pleased. As if reading her mind, the boys threw some articles of clothing over the marks before turning away as if they didn’t just hide the scene of the crime.

Taking her luggage, George placed it on the nightstand, giving it a gentle pat. Fred came behind her and took Snuffles from her arms, ignoring her cry, “Calm down, Cyra! I’m just putting him on the bed!” She responded with a huff, letting him do as he pleased. That was just the easier way to go about things, letting the twins get their way.

She was very excited, though, despite all the ruckus. She still had no idea what had caused Moony to agree, but he did. She had simply seen it as a lost cause, but perhaps he wanted her to behave before he allowed it? The answer was not very clear to her, but she was happy she was here nonetheless.  
  
“So,” She began, looking at the boys expectantly, “What first?” At that, they seemed to be at a loss, realizing that they hadn’t planned much further than her getting to the Burrow and the room ready. “Well, what do you wanna do?” George piped up, motioning over to her to take the lead. Oh, but she wasn’t very good with that. She much preferred to follow.

Looking around the room once again, she wracked her brain to come up with an idea, but nothing seemed to really spark anything. What could they really do? Usually when they had their play dates, they were either being taught by Mrs. Weasley, playing card games, or plotting some kind of prank on an unsuspecting victim. It was then she had an idea, “Let’s play pretend!” Yes, she remembered those girls playing it. Though she refused to play with them due to their nasty nature, she was very intrigued by the game.

The boys shared a look before turning back to her, “Pretend?” She gave a quick nod, now feeling very sure of her idea, though she didn’t entirely understand how it worked, “It’s a muggle game! You pretend to be something you’re not!” To that, they nodded along, though they were still obviously confused. Trying to figure out how to explain it, she rushed over to pick up a book, “Like this! I’m a bookstore owner, and this is a book that I keep in my store!”

That’s when it finally dawned on them, “Oh!” Fred looked around the room before taking his toy broom from the pile of junk on the floor, “I’m the world’s best beater, and I’m about the win the world cup!” Following his brother’s lead, George picked up the fake wand from the pile, “I’m an Auror!” Cyra nodded excitedly, hugging the book to her chest, “That’s it!”

And so, they played pretend for quite some time, all with three very different backgrounds. Somehow the librarian had started a little baking shop inside of her already formed book shop, with the Beater and Auror being her customers. They didn’t complain however, as they were actually being served sweets from Cyra’s stash.

“Kids?” Mrs. Weasley popped her head in, seeing them all huddled around the nightstand that had become a makeshift dining table. It was so cute to see them all playing, though she had absolutely no idea what was going on. The adorableness did not last long however when she had seen the mess of the room, her face quickly turning stern, “Did a typhoon blow through your room!? How on earth did it become even _more_ of a mess? And why are your beds together!?”

Even though the anger wasn’t directed at her, Cyra still flinched back with the twins, looking away from the woman’s harsh stare. The twins however, hid their fear by pretending they didn’t see a thing, looking around the room in false confusion.

“Whatever do you mean, mum dearest?”

“Yes, our room is squeaky clean.”

“Our beds have always looked like that.”

 _Shockingly_ , Mrs. Weasley did not buy the boy’s act, her hands on her hips as she looked down on them in disapproval. Cyra edged herself away from the nightstand, wanting to be the farthest away from the woman’s steely gaze. However, Cyra wasn’t invisible, and Mrs. Weasley had immediately caught sight of her backing into a corner.

“Oh now dear,” Her voice had switched to a softer tone, “Of course I don’t blame you. I’m sure it would have been much worse if you weren’t here.” Cyra knew that wasn’t the truth, she let the twins get away with quite a lot, despite how high Mrs. Weasley’s opinions seemed to be of her. But, playing along with a nod, Mrs. Weasley’s furious stare soon went right back to the troublesome two.

At the end, the boys had been forced to clean their room, though Mrs. Weasley had allowed their beds to stay together. Perhaps she had forgotten to mention it during her house rattling shouts, but since it wasn’t said, they decided to leave it.

Dinner was a very eventful occasion, and it was one that Cyra wasn’t entirely used to. Dinner with Moony had always been quiet, both of them curled beneath a blanket as they watched the telly. Here, the whole family gathered around the table, each a designated spot. Cyra even surprisingly had a seat that was between the twins, they probably thought with her in between, they’d be less lightly to cause trouble. A reasonable approach, but useless.

As everyone was joyfully shouting amongst the table, Cyra was the odd one out, silently eating her food. Occasionally, she’d spare a glance over to Charlie, seeing him converse with Bill about some event that happened at school. Everyone seemed to have their own thing to talk about, and then there was her.

She began to miss the comfortable quiet of home, the static in the background as they dug into their meals. She began to miss Moony. Letting out a sigh, she picked a roll from the table and began nibbling on it. As she got lost in her thoughts, she felt the faint brush of something on cheek. Turning to the source, she saw George, his hand returning to its original spot after tucking one of her curls behind her ear.

That’s right, it was only one night. One night with her dearest friends. Shooting him a smile to show she was alright; she took a more vigorous bite of her roll. Though, she didn’t have much of an appetite after seeing Ronald speaking from across the table, food still half chewed and spilling from his open mouth.

* * *

“Alright Cyra?”

She turned her head to her left where the voice came from, her eyes adjusted to the dark, “Yeah, are you George?” He gave a shrug, shifting the blankets as he did. After a moment of silence, he sat up to look over to her right where his twin laid, “Fred?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He spoke into the pillow, sounding almost half asleep. Cyra couldn’t resist the laughter that bubbled from her. George flopped back down on the mattress as he joined her in the laughing fit.

“Wha? Why you guys laughing?” Fred slurred once again, trying his best to hold his head up. That only incited their laughter to continue, leaving Fred to eventually join in. He didn’t get the joke, but he wouldn’t pass up the chance for a good laugh. After some point, their laughter had died down and was replaced with soft snores.

A light soon entered into the room as the door was cracked open to reveal Mr. and Mrs Weasley in the doorway. They watched the children as they slumbered, sharing a look between them both before they shut the door back without a single word.

* * *

“So? Did you enjoy your sleepover with the twins?”

Remus was almost too nervous to ask, but the glowing faces that Molly and Arthur had that morning seemed to prove that nothing awful happened. As well as one quick look over, Cyra had no extra scars or injuries. He never knew what to expect anymore.

“Yes! We got to play, and Mrs. Weasley made this large feast!” Cyra was a ray of sunshine that evening, nearly skipping as they returned to the cabin. Remus followed after her, heading into the kitchen to prepare her lunch, “Is that so?”

“Yep! But I really missed you, Papa.”

His hand stopped, hovering over the jar of jam, “I-Is that so?” Was he dreaming? Feeling the arms wrapped around his hips, he realized very quickly he was not. Oh merlin, his heart felt like it was melting. How could he be so lucky to have such an angel of a daughter? Maybe this sleepover _was_ good for her, she needed to be shown independence at this age. Even if that meant she had to leave her dear old dad. It was to prepare her for when she went off to other places, like Hogwarts. As well as to build her bond with the twin brothers, who he was sure would protect her through those many years to come.

“Yeah!” Cyra cheered, releasing him to go get the bread from the pantry, “I also missed having a bed to myself. Fred and George snore in their sleep.” Remus let out a chuckle as he opened the jar, “Yes, well, I find it easier to sleep by myself as w-“ Wait. The smile wiped cleanly from his face as her words sunk in, his grip tightening on the glass.  
  
“No more sleepovers.”


	12. The Gift of Cookies

“Can you take me to Hogwarts?”

Remus had just gotten home from work, rubbing his hand over his face as he tried to remove all the stress that working in retail caused. “Cyra, you’re not old enough to go to Hogwarts yet.” He joked, finally lifting his head to see her holding four messily wrapped boxes. He found it strange that they were wrapped in the Christmas paper when it was now February, he said nothing about it though.

Cyra struggled to hold the boxes in her hands, placing them on the couch before organizing them with care, “I made cookies for everyone.” Remus was now even more confused, staring at the small boxes, noticing one was barely holding on the tape that held the paper together, “Uh..huh. And who is everyone?” Those were surely not enough cookies for the entire school, unless his nine-year-old learned an extension charm without him knowing.

Holding out her four fingers, she counted them off, “Mr. Dumbledore, Ms. McGonagall, Mr. Hagrid, and Mr. Snape.” He did his best not to cringe at the reveal that one of these boxes was for Severus Snape. He supposed it was rather kind of her to think of them, though he was sure that the other teachers would feel a bit chagrined at not getting cookies. Giving her a pout, he tried his best attempt at puppy eyes, “I don’t suppose we could just mail these?” Her eyes narrowing at him was the only response he needed.

“Alright, I’ll notify Dumbledore that we’re coming.”

* * *

As they entered through the floo, he watched as Cyra struggled to keep hold of all the boxes. She had refused his earlier offer to carry them, demanding that she do this herself. Merlin, where had the times gone? She didn’t even need him to set the oven anymore.

“Ah, and what do we have here?” Dumbledore appeared before them, pretending to look surprised as Cyra stepped out of the floo, hurrying over to him with her boxes. It took a moment for her to decide which one was his, once the correct box was chosen, she held it out to the Headmaster.

“Why,” Dumbledore gave a gasp as he took the box from her, “A gift for me? Why, Ms. Lupin, you are truly gracious.” Cyra gave a little smile, shuffling her feet as she listened to his praises. Remus rolled his eyes, leave it to Dumbledore to really pour on the dramatics. The wizard took his sweet time opening his box, even taking a moment to compliment Cyra on her ‘gorgeous wrapping.’ When he opened it up, he for the first time truly looked shocked.

Cyra looked away in embarrassment, “I-I made them to look like you.. I even did little socks.” What? Remus was now genuinely curious, coming over to them to see a bunch of small little gingerbread wizards in the box, they were iced with a white beard, robes that looked similar to Dumbledore’s, and even mismatched socks. He was floored, he had no idea that Cyra’s baking skills had gotten so impressive. She even made a dozen, each one done by hand and identical to the last.

“Ms. Lupin, this is..” Dumbledore was at a loss for words, staring at the box with wide eyes. Giving himself a moment, he quickly cleared the lump in his throat, looking down at the nine-year-old almost in awe, “This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received.” Cyra gave him a smile back before turning back to the doors, “We have more cookies to deliver, Papa!”

And so, he was right behind her, opening the door so she didn’t drop the boxes. Dumbledore was following from behind them, cradling his box with one hand, as the other was feeding him one of his cookie selves. Cyra, not knowing where to go, allowed Remus to lead the way to McGonagall’s classroom. Though, when he noticed the class inside, he told her that they couldn’t disturb McGonagall at the moment.

Looking disappointed, she turned to Dumbledore and held out the box, “Could you give this to her?” Refusing to take the item, the Headmaster went past them to knock on the door, opening it just a crack, “Professor McGonagall?”

“Y-Yes, Headmaster, what is it?” McGonagall was thrown off, not used to the Headmaster just barging in. Headmaster Dumbledore gave a little chuckle before placing his hand on Cyra’s back and nudging her inside the classroom, “You have a visitor.” Cyra stiffened beneath the student’s stares, not wanting to go further another inch. Professor McGonagall seemed to relax as she saw her, “Ms. Lupin, what a pleasant surprise!” At her tone, she didn’t seem angry that Cyra was disturbing her classroom.

Shuffling herself forward, she took the box she had drawn a little ‘M’ on the bottom, holding it out for the older woman to take. Professor McGonagall took it gently, not daring to laugh at the horrible wrapping, or the fact that it was Christmas paper in the middle of February. Taking it over to her desk, she unwrapped it, the sweet smell of vanilla wafting from the box. Opening it up, she had to take a moment, looking at Cyra with wonder, “You made these?” Cyra gave a quick nod, trying to ignore the students as they whispered amongst themselves. Remus popped his head in, curious, “What did she make you?”

Professor McGonagall held up the sugar cookie that was shaped like a cat, not just that, but frosted to look like her animagus form, with even a little pair of glasses on it. She remembered showing her animagus form to Cyra when she was 7, the girl found absolute delight in it, but she had never imagined that she would remember such details as her fur color.

Looking around her classroom, she realized she had gotten a bit misty-eyed, turning away for a moment to straighten herself out. Cyra was genuinely happy that the witch seemed to enjoy it, though it took her by surprise when she was tugged into a hug. Professor McGonagall sniffled, petting the girl’s hair for a moment, “Thank you so much dear. I cannot wait to teach you, you bright little girl.”

Embarrassed with all the attention, she whispered to the woman, “ _Thank you for helping Papa_.” She then slipped out of the room, hurrying down the halls to her next destination. McGonagall gave a sharp laugh, covering her mouth quickly to silence it, reminding herself that she was in front of her class. With that, she waved off Headmaster Dumbledore and Remus before she continued on to teach, the box of cookies put away to be kept safe.

Cyra knew exactly where she was going this time, she just needed to go outside. Remus and Dumbledore were hot on her trail, trying to keep up with the nine-year-old’s energy. The halls were empty, so Cyra felt no shame as she hurried through them. Once she had reached the entrance to the ground, she waited for the wizards to catch up to her.

“Cyra, you really need to slow down. We can only go so fast!” Remus panted, clutching his chest. Dumbledore in the same state as he. Cyra pointed out to the hut, “Hagrid is next.” Before they could speak, she was off once again, going down the path with determination.

Once they reached the hut, Cyra was the one to knock this time, rapping her knuckles softly on the large door. There was thudding inside before the door was swung open, causing Cyra to take a step back. Hagrid stood in the doorway, looking at Remus and Dumbledore in confusion, before he looked all the way down, “Ah, Cyra! Nice to see ye again!” She gave a smile back, doing her best not to wince as his voice boomed around her.

“I made you cookies.” She presented the box to him, having to stand on her tippy toes to even reach his hand. Crouching down, he carefully took the box, it looked much smaller once it was in his hands. “Aw..ye..” Unlike how long it took for McGonagall, Hagrid was instantly teary-eyed, “Ye didn’t have to do that! Ye little darlin, come on inside!” He parted the way for them to enter, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes.

Cyra looked around the hut, seeing that nothing had really changed, it all looked the very same. Except for Fang, that puppy was now a very large dog. Instantly mesmerized, she ran over to him to play, Fang seeing her and getting excited. Remus laughed as he saw she was already on the floor playing with the large dog, taking a seat next to Dumbledore. Hagrid placed the box carefully on the table, taking his dear time to attempt not to rip the paper. While they waited, Dumbledore turned to Remus with a knowing smile, “Funny how time seems to change so much, but yet, is still the same.” The younger wizard stared at the elder man in confusion, waiting for an explanation.

But the Headmaster simply turned his attentions back to the child playing on the floor, “She’s much happier since the last time she was here, don’t you think?” To that, Remus gave a nod, “Yes, she’s grown so much.” He watched his daughter as she rolled around on the floor, trying to get Fang to do the same.

“She’s not the only one who has changed, Remus.”

Dumbledore’s words rang in his head, but before he could ask what he meant, Hagrid had cried out. The half-giant was sobbing as he looked into the box, his tears soaking his shirt. Cyra looked up worried, watching him and wondering why he seemed so upset. With trembling hands, he took out a cookie that were two times bigger than any of the others, shaped like a Hippogriff.

“She remembered!” He choked out, showing it to the men with pride. Remus saw out the corner of his eye, Cyra hunched over as relief flooded into her. Hagrid cried for a couple of minutes, not wanting to bite into something so personally made for him. Cyra let him have his moment, playing tug with Fang. Hagrid, once he was capable to have his emotions back in check, picked up the small girl in what one may call a bear hug.

Cyra’s eyes were wide with panic, but she didn’t fight to get out of his arms, allowing him to thank her the only way he knew how. “Yer a precious girl, Ms. Cyra! Don’t let nobody tell ye any different!” Hagrid shouted his praises for her, the girl within his grasp soon turning pink. Though, Remus could have sworn she was also turning a bit blue.

Last delivery, and they were out of here. Remus shivered as they entered the dungeons, his jumper doing nothing to provide him warmth. The Slytherin territory was a frosty abyss, sucking out all that was good and happy in you, like a dementor. Sighing, he didn’t notice Dumbledore’s knowing stare as they approached the Potion Master’s door. But after a moment of silence, he soon realized there was nothing happening. Looking down, Remus noticed Cyra shuffling her feet, a well-known sign that she was uncomfortable.

Leaning down, he whispered softly so only she could hear, “We don’t have to do this if you’re scared. You could just leave the box outside his door.” She shook her head, her brows furrowing as she struggled to gather the courage to knock. Just before her hand landed on the wood, the door burst open, the dark looming figure standing above her.

“What..do you want?” Snape drawled, glaring at Remus with contempt. Noticing this, Remus held his hands up in defense before pointing down at the child. Pitch black eyes soon drifted down to notice the child holding up the box to his person.

“You cannot bribe your way into my graces, Ms. Lupin, surely you know that.” He began, but Cyra was firm in her stance, holding the box up higher to him. Pausing, he examined the box, seeming to look for a trick or hidden joke. But there was none. Just a really bad wrapping job. Raising his lip in a sneer, he took the box from her hands, seeming to almost hover as he made his way to his desk.

“I’d comment on your god-awful wrapping, but I’m more disturbed by the fact there is Santa Claus on it. Do you not possess any other wrapping paper, Lupin?” Severus mocked as he began unwrapping the gift. Cyra made her way in, piping up, “I could only find the Santa paper.” The potions professor froze, his gaze drifting over to the small girl, “Well, well..” He raised a dark brow as he observed her, “She speaks.”

Remus realized that Snape had never heard Cyra actually speak to him. The only time they had met in person was the first time she came to Hogwarts. After that, the line of communication was him sending a present for her birthday each year. Like a distant uncle. A shudder took over him, trying to wipe his mind clean from the thought of Snape being Cyra’s uncle.

Cyra pressed her lips together, shuffling her feet once again, “I hope you like it.” The Potions Master turned back to his gift, opening it up the rest of the way before peering in. Unlike the others, he did not cry or sing her praises. No, instead he was silent. But Cyra didn’t seem to take any offense to it, observing him as he reached into the box and pulled out a cookie shaped like a potion bottle.

There was a moment of silence in the room, besides the sound of Dumbledore munching on his cookies. After what felt like forever, Severus had turned to address Cyra, holding the cookie delicately in his hand, “Are these a poisonous potion?” She quickly shook her head, her eyes widening, “No. Sugar Cookie.” His lips quirked up as the joke flew over her head. Remus felt like he was in some alternate universe, one where Snape actually made jokes.

“Thank you for making that clear, as well as another thing.” The Potions Master turned away, placing the cookie back into the box. Cyra looked confused, looking back at the wizards behind her for an answer. Remus had no idea what the codger was on about. Dumbledore was still occupied with his cookies.

“Such a shame,” Snape began, his eyes locked onto Remus this time, “For you at least.” Remus raised a brow at him, “Oh yeah? Why?” The slimy git had the audacity to smirk as he realized Remus had no idea what he was on about. Motioning over to Cyra, he continued, “That she’ll never be a Gryffindor.” Seeing the shock from Remus, he decided to hit the final nail on the head, “We don’t need a sorting hat to tell us that this child is a Hufflepuff.”

* * *

Cyra had a question. Remus being her caretaker for so many years, he had learned to tell. Plus, she wasn’t exactly subtle about it, her eyes darting from him back to her plate. Folding the prophet in half, he inclined his head to her, “What is it, love?” Now put on the spot, she stopped pretending that she was eating her bacon, instead choosing to just sit there and stare at him.

“Um..” She began, wiping her greased fingers on a napkin, “So, I overheard Mr. Weasley speaking about stuff going on in the Ministry.” He gave a nod, letting her continue. “And he talked about You-know-who.. and his followers.” It was then she began moving about awkwardly in the chair, avoiding his gaze, “Did..”

Worry began to seep in when he heard the rise in her voice, placing the prophet on the table to give her his full attention, “Did what, Cyra?” Nibbling her lip, she pointed at her shoulder, where the fuzzy jumper covered her bite, “Did he work for You-know-who?” Oh. Now he understood. Cyra didn’t like speaking about the incident very often, but he had noticed she had gotten more interested in what was in the prophet lately with the death eater captures. Even now, the Aurors were trying to weed them out.

“Yes.” He answered simply, allowing it to sink in for her before he continued, “He did. Fenrir, despite being affected by lycanthropy, shared the same ideals as You-know-who. He was used as a tool, for when witches and wizards refused You-know-who.”

As he explained, the realization struck that he would have to reveal the truth behind her parent’s death. He waited, watching the gears turn in Cyra’s head before they all fit in place, her next question on the tip of her tongue. He didn’t want her to ask it, silently praying to himself.

“Then, my parents?” Her soft voice crushed his hopes, the weight increasing on his shoulders and making it harder to breathe. Looking down at his clasped hands, he began, “Your father was a muggle, but your mother..” He took a moment to breathe, it felt like his lungs were collapsing, “Your grandmother was the daughter of Caspar Crouch. A family from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. So your mother being half-blood mattered not to him. At least, not enough that it would keep him from recruiting her.”

Cyra listened to his every word, hanging on to each detail as the story began to come together, broken fragments of her past creating the full picture. Remus tried to steady his voice, not wanting to upset Cyra worse, “She was impossible for him to find, having chose to live in the muggle world with your father and having you. He sent Fenrir to find her. But after You-know-who’s downfall, it was no longer to recruit, the search was now for-“

“Revenge.”

Cyra’s voice echoed in the deadly silent kitchen, causing Remus to spare her a glance. His heart broke as he saw the light leave her eyes, her dull gaze on the half-eaten food before her. He imagined she wouldn’t have much of an appetite after this.

“Yes,” He admitted, “It was for revenge. For forsaking their Lord.” This next part is what killed him, not because of pity, but anger. He was still as angry as the day Dumbledore told him the secret behind the night.

“You weren’t supposed to get involved. But Fenrir was twisted and cruel, and he-“ He didn’t say more, his voice breaking, his jaw clenched as he struggled to gather himself. Cyra’s eyes slowly raised to look at him, her hands sliding over the jumper where the deep claw marks resided on her stomach, “He..” She trailed off, knowing exactly what Remus was trying to say.

Giving a sharp nod, he snatched the glass from the table, forcing himself to drink some water and cool down. The liquid dribbled down his chin, but he paid no mind, trying to drown the fire that flared within him. The sound of the chair being scooted from the floorboards pervaded his hearing, causing a pause as he waited to see what Cyra did.

The girl stood there for a few moments, staring off in the distance as if she wasn’t really there. Placing the glass on the table, he watched, his face wrinkling with concern. Then, it happened, a single tear trailed down her cheek. The moment it appeared, Remus was out of his chair and picking her up. Just like he did when she was six after her first transformation, he cradled her in his arms.

“I know. I’m so sorry.” He whispered continuously into her hair, setting them both on the couch and letting her cry it out as long as she needed to. Even as his jumper got soaked with tears, sticking uncomfortably to his skin, he did not move. Allowing her to grieve the loss of her parents, and the life she could have had.

* * *

“You need to stop fancying Charlie.” Fred shouted out of random, causing both George and Cyra to stop in their ministrations. They were in the yard, trying to de-gnome the garden as Mrs. Weasley had ordered them to. Taking advantage of the distraction, the gnome slipped from their grasps, running off with a high-pitched cackle.

Watching it go, Cyra blinked slowly, before she turned her head back to the cause of this, “I’m sorry?” The redhead proceeded to let out a huff, the tips of his ears turning red, “You heard me! Tell her George!” George, now being dragged into this, began to stutter, turning to Cyra with wide eyes.

She stood there waiting, crossing her arms over her chest, not caring as she smeared dirt on her shirt. It made it just more intimidating for the poor boy. “Well,” He began, struggling to look her in the eyes, “Um, I think what Fred is trying to say is..that is..” He then looked at his brother, begging for backup, but he offered none. He was the one who got them in this mess, and he was retreating like a coward.

Looking between the brothers, she let out a sigh, shaking her head, “Boys..” A mutter came from her, sounding tired as she stomped off to where the gnome had gone off. Once she was far, Fred nudged George roughly, “Oi! Why didn’t you say anything?!” George scoffed, nudging him back harder, “As if you were any help! What was that about, eh?” He proceeded to mimic Fred, “You need to stop fancying Charlie, duh!” There was a second of silence before Fred launched himself at him, taking them both down to the ground in their tumble.

Meanwhile, Cyra was tossing a gnome in the air before kicking it off into the swimming hole. She knew she could just toss them off into a field, but she worried they might get hurt. Best to have a soft landing. Watching it swim around with glee, she thought back to Fred’s words. Fancying Charlie? As if she would. Just the other week at lunch, she saw him picking his nose, and _then_ wiping it on the table. It was so gross. Boys were gross.

Hearing shouts, she turned to see the twin brothers rolling around in the mud, trying to shove worms in the others ears. As she said, boys were gross.


	13. His hair is too pretty

Remus was a bundle of nerves when he saw the owl arrive that morning. It was time, and he was so very excited, but terrified at the same time. Taking the letter from the barn owl, he placed it beneath Cyra’s plate. She had a rough time sleeping after her transformations, so he tended to let her sleep in as she wanted. Though no matter how much sleep she got, she still managed to fall asleep at the most random of times. He knew by now that if she wasn’t responding to his calls, she was probably curled up some place taking a nap.

Hearing the door to her room creak open, his heart began racing, deciding to keep himself busy by preparing her something to eat. As his hands fumbled to get the pan, he heard her sleepy greetings before she situated herself at her place at the table.

Snatching up the container of pumpkin juice from the fridge, he capped it open before pouring her a glass. Once it was placed before her, she managed to grasp it through her half-opened eyes. As her hand brushed the envelope, Remus held his breath in anticipation, waiting to see if she’d notice.

She didn’t. Anything besides the juice she was chugging, it did not matter. Feeling disappointed, he went back to the kitchen, leaving the container on the table for her to refill her glass. Taking the eggs out the fridge, he began preparing some eggy bread for them both. The mornings were usually very silent for the first half, Cyra drowsy and connecting herself back to reality, Remus enjoying his morning tea. But today was not any other morning, and the wizard was _dying_ for her to notice the letter.

As the eggs cooked, he spared a glance to his daughter, her curls nesting messily around her head. Her hair had definitely deepened with time, turning the shade of dark chocolate. At times, she looked exactly like Sirius, and those were the days it killed him. He’s mocked himself on how ironic the situation must have been, a child that was in no way related, but looked like the product of them both.

Noticing her eyes were now fully open, he shot her a smile before turning back to the pan. Similar or not, she was not Sirius’s child. No, she was his. And he adored her more than words could say. It was an honor to raise her, to watch her grow. And now he got to see her off on her next adventure of life. He had never been more grateful to Dumbledore than at that exact moment, if it weren’t for his insisting he take her in, he would have never known such bliss.

“What’s this?”

There it was. Hiding a smile, he spoke cryptically, “What is what? Perhaps you should open it. It is after all, addressed to you.” There was a moment of silence before he heard the sound of crinkling paper. Plating the eggy bread, he turned around to face her, seeing the excitement enter her eyes.  
  


“PAPA!” She exclaimed, her head shooting up to look at him, now wide awake. Feigning confusion, he placed the plate of food before her, “What is it? What could have you so hyper this morning?” Her response was to wave the letter before his face. Taking it, he placed his plate to the side so he could read over it. Once he was done, he jokingly raised a brow, “My, you actually got in. Before you were even 11, too. I was so sure they were going to hold you back a year.” Cyra stuck her tongue out at him, not taking offense to him poking fun at her.

Pleased to see her so happy, Remus folded the letter back, motioning to her plate, “Eat, I’ll go ahead and send our confirmation that you will be attending. After, we can begin to get your school supplies, and your owl.” At that, she ate her breakfast quickly.

* * *

Even after years of the sight of Diagon Alley, never before had it seemed so entrancing. Cyra was in a state of awe as she witnessed others performing magic effortlessly in the streets. Remus did not complain when she lagged behind, waiting patiently ahead. The potion supplies they acquired were wrapped tightly up in parchment, charmed to be small enough to fit in his bag. Next was her robes and wand, though he supposed she would want to get her wand first.

Leading the way to Ollivander’s, he didn’t miss the skip in her step as the sign came into their view. Pushing open the door for her, Remus allowed Cyra to enter first, the bell ringing to announce their arrival. As she looked around, a loud thud came from the back, followed by a shout.

“Ah! J-Just a moment, please!” The posh accent came from behind the scattered shelves of wands. IN the blink of an eye, the owner appeared before them, a man with a head of wild white curls. Straightening his suit out, he motioned out to them with a thin hand, “Welcome to my shop, please excuse the mess. How may I assist?” Cyra stepped forward, taking his hand first and shaking it carefully, “Pleasure to meet you sir. May I have a wand?” Her polite tone took him by surprise, a smile forming on his worn skin.

“But of course!” He declared, whipping out his wand, “Let us begin! If you do not mind, Mr. Lupin, I’ll need a bit of space for us to begin.” Taking his cue, Remus sat at the comfortable seats in front of the shop’s windows.

With a simple flick, a tape measure flew out from the back, before it began measuring around Cyra’s arms. Mr. Ollivander took her hands in his, examining each palm before lifting her right arm out. “Right-handed, correct?” He questioned, though there was nothing but sureness in his tone. Cyra simply replied with a nod, watching him with curiosity.

Taking the tape measure from the air, he looked over it before tossing it behind the desk, “Pah! As I thought, the measuring is always off! Small you may be, but a wand that is only 9 inches will not suit your character!” Cyra had not a clue what the older wizard was about, watching him as he took her hand once again to look at it.  
  
“What is the ultimate goal of life?” Ollivander whispered the question, looking at her with intense silver eyes. Thinking about it for a moment, she answered, “To love and to be loved.” For a moment she feared she had given the wrong answer, if there even was a wrong answer.

“What stops you from achieving true happiness?”

He was causing her to feel very unsettled by his stare, as if her own expressions could give him the answer. Focusing on the question, she battled with herself to find the answer. Would it be revenge against that monster Fenrir? To never see another kid like her to suffer? Would it to be normal? The silence grew in the shop as she thought carefully over his words.

Ollivander was waiting patiently, his thumbs running over the lines of her palm as if they would unravel and spill her secrets. “What stops me..” She began slowly, her eyes meeting his, “Is me? I stop my happiness?” He seemed satisfied, no more questions as he stepped away to go over to the shelves.

As he skimmed though each tag, he explained, “I find that using a measuring tape is crude in practice. The idea that a wand’s length should be based on the length of the witch or wizard’s wand, is a child’s logic. It fails to take into account many other, important considerations.” His words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, “Like personality, values.. and the possibilities of their future.”

Cyra felt very invaded, now coming to the realization that he seemed to have looked right through her. Turning around to look at Moony, she saw him lounging with one of her books in his lap, not a care in the world. She couldn’t help but wonder if he had to go through this as well.

“Here we are!” She jumped at the intruding voice, turning back around to give her attention back to the wandmaker. Ollivander carried some boxes with him as he made his way back to her. Once they were placed on the table, he took the first wand out and placed it in her hand.

Cyra observed the wand, turning it over for a moment before going to give it a flick. Nothing happened. The wand was then snatched out of her hand replaced with a much lighter one, it felt like she was holding a leaf. She instantly didn’t like it. Without even needing to give a flick, the wand was taken.

They were in the shop for some time, but Ollivander never gave up. As he shuffled through the wands, he seemed to muttering to himself, “Very difficult. Emotional, controlled, but needs reliability.” She was a bit offended, feeling as though he was speaking of her. Remus at this point was watching the pair, curiosity peaked.

Deciding to break Ollivander’s orders, she marched her way in, crouching down next to him to help. When the wandmaker turned to her, her explanation silenced him, “Maybe I can draw it to me.” It was then he lit up, lurching from his place on the floor and racing over to a shelf.

“OF COURSE!” He exclaimed, “How could I have been so blind!” He snatched the box from the shelf, ushering Cyra back out from behind the desk. A bit thrown off, she moved back to her original place. Once the wand was placed in her hands, she felt goosebumps form on her skin, as if she was in ice cold water. This was it. Without hesitation, she flicked her wand at the book that laid on the shop desk. It was sent flying to the floor.

Mr. Ollivander was nearly dancing with glee, clapping his hands together, “Marvelous! I made that wand 20 years ago, I’m so happy it has found its home.” She turned it over in her hands in admiration, taking in every detail. It was a dark wood, longer than she had imagined, going down into a silver handle that held some glass bulb at the bottom. Inside of the glass was yellow and white petals, suspended as if frozen in air.

“12 inches, Hazel Wood, with a Dragon Heartstring core.” Ollivander said, sounding satisfied, “Hazel is a perfect fit for the owner in touch with their emotions, but also in controlling them. Be very careful losing your temper with this wand, as it will absorb the energy you give off, and may spark off unexpectedly. Hazel is a wood that is very devoted, even in death, it will expel all of it’s magic and wilt. Never to perform again.”

Cyra absorbed the information as it spewed from him, listening intently. Ollivander began to tidy up the boxes as he continued, “Dragon Heartstring is for very powerful magic. Suitable for witches and wizards who perhaps are a bit more temperamental.” Cyra ignored the muffled laughter from behind her.

“But, it will become very attached to it’s owner, bending to their will. It will not fight you.” She was satisfied with that, lifting the wand up to the light to watch the petals float around in their crystallized ball, “What are the flowers for?”

That seemed to perk the wandmakers curiosity. He came over to check it, attempting to access the memory of when he had crafted this wand, “I believe a muggle flower, daffodils. A young girl came in here with them, she was muggleborn and wished for me to have one as a thank you. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I decided to use the kindness she imbued in the flower to place into the wand.”

Cyra hugged the wand to her chest with a smile, satisfied with the answer.

* * *

“You got it right?”

“We got ours earlier-”

“Came before breakfast-”

“But mum wouldn’t let us open them-“

“Until we ate-“

Cyra raised her letter to silence them. Fred and George ran to embrace her, trapping her in the middle where she couldn’t escape.

“It’s not fair!”

The trio turned to look at the twin’s little brother, Ronald. He was sitting on the ground, his arms crossed over his chest as he pouted. She could only spare him a pitying smile before the twins launched into their usual teasing, only further irritating the poor boy.

“Awww, it’s okay Ronny-poo!”

“You’ll be able to join us soon, just need about..”

“Two years?”

“Unless your letter gets lost.”

“Or they find out you’re afraid of spiders.”

Letting out a sigh, she pushed them both away, “That’s enough, he’s going to cry.” Ron rubbed furiously at his wet eyes, “Am not!” She gave a nod, pretending to believe, “Right, my mistake.” Leaning in to give him a hug, she whispered so the twins could not hear, “Don’t listen to them. They were terrified your mum told the school not to let them in. Since they’re such troublemakers. Almost cried, the both of them.” That was a lie, but it made him smile. Which was enough for her.

“Right, stop hogging her!”

With that, they hoisted her up away from Ron.

“Yeah, Ronny-kins! Don’t be getting a crush on her, she’s ours!”

Cyra watched tiredly as Ron’s smile disappeared, the tips of his ears turning red. She wondered for how long they would continue this possession of her, like she was a prized trophy no one could touch. A part of her feared it would end once they arrived at Hogwarts, the two getting distracted by new friends to talk to. For now, she would allow herself to be selfish and enjoy it.

* * *

“Do you think they’d let me bring my Bon Jovi poster?”

Remus spared a glance at said poster, raising a brow at the smolder and leather jacket, “What do you see in him? He’s much older than you, you know.” He supposed a crush on a muggle rocker was better than a crush on the boys around her.

“His hair, it’s pretty.”

He resisted the urge to laugh, placing the folded socks in her luggage, “You’re not wrong, but I think we should leave it here.” He heard her sigh of defeat before she went back to packing. Glancing up once again to the poster, his lips quirks up in appreciation. His hair was very pretty.

* * *

“Right, got everything?”

Cyra gave a nod, raising her luggage and cage for him to see. Inside the cage was a sleeping cinnamon screech owl, a soft pink blanket covering it so the train station’s lights wouldn’t disturb him. Remus was a bit thrown off when she appeared with the auburn owl on her arm, it was a bit smaller than the other screech owls, its pure black eyes staring blankly at him. It was a bit creepy, he had to admit. But Cyra adored him, said he was precious and even named him before he was paid for.

Biscuit, that was his name. Because apparently to Cyra, he looked like a little biscuit. Her names really hadn’t improved, but he wouldn’t dare tell her. His name was Biscuit, and that was final. 

Looking back at her, he managed a shaky smile, “Well.. this is it then, huh?” He had feared this day, having to let her go. Seeing through his attempts to seem fine, she quickly wrapped her arms around his midsection, “It’s not it. I’ll be back.” He felt the tears form as he held her closely, “Yes. You’re right.”

This was good. She had to grow up someday. He would see her again, for Christmas, and then after the school year. Running his fingers through her curls, he allowed himself a moment to just cling to her. He knew once he got home, she wouldn’t be there waiting for him. He would be alone again.

“Promise you’ll write me the moment you get to your dorms. I want to know how your sorting went, and how you’re doing.”

She understood what he meant by that last bit, and it was something that did frighten her. She would no longer be at the cabin where she could openly snap and transform. She would have to be careful, concealing herself from whoever her housemates were.

“I will. I promise Papa.” 

She would be okay. She had to be. Dumbledore wouldn’t let anything happen to her, or to his students.

* * *

As she boarded the train, she let Fred and George lead the way to a compartment, her heart beginning to beat frantically. This was it. She was going to Hogwarts. Her throat closed up as she heard the twin’s scream, racing to the compartment they had entered, trying to scent any blood in the air. What greeted her panicked state was them soaked to the bone, a bucket laying on the ground beneath their feet, and a dark-skinned boy laughing at them.

“Sorry about that!” He pushed the locks that had fallen over his eyes, “I had seen some Slytherins roaming around, thought I’d get in a little prank.”

That won the twins almost instantly, taking his hand with identical grins.

“Nice to meet you-“

“No worries about it-“

“We needed a lil wake up call-“

“Slytherins you say?”

Cyra watched as his eyes darted between the boys, his brows furrowing in confusion as he tried to keep up. Attempting to calm herself, she let out a shaky greeting, “I-I’m Cyra. Cyra Lupin. This is Fred and George Weasley.” The boy looked at her next, as if just noticing she was there, “Oh, hi! I’m Lee Jordan!” She gave a nod before turning away, going over to retrieve her abandoned luggage as they all talked among themselves.

As she picked up Biscuit’s cage from the floor, she whispered an apology to the disgruntled owl. She really needed to be careful. Her instincts had taken over, and she had allowed it. As if she actually had control over it. Gripping the handle of her luggage, she felt her shoulders begin to tremble.

Could she actually do this? What was she going to do about showering? She was going to share a bathroom with others, they would see her scars, or worse, her bite. She’d be feared. They would look at her like a monster. She didn’t know how Moony handled this, the covering up, the fear. She could hurt someone. She could hurt Fred and George.

“Cyra?”

She flinched as her shoulders felt a weight, spinning around quickly to face them. There they stood, staring at her worried. Fred was the first to come forward, rubbing her arm comfortingly, “You alright?” She couldn’t speak, her lips pressed tightly with fear. Next was George, wrapping his arm around her back to pull her into his embrace, “It’s going to be okay. I know you’re scared.” 

They couldn’t possibly understand. They just saw her as a girl scared to go to school, not the one that was keeping the monster at bay. Still, she couldn’t help melting into their touch. Fred came behind her, pressing himself so she was trapped between them. He whispered into her ear, his voice softer, “We’re not going to leave you, Cyra. You’re our best friend. We love you.” There it was, the sob that broke her silence. Burying her face into George’s shoulder, she began to shake in their arms.

They didn’t know the true reason behind her tears, but they held her and whispered to her like they did. That was enough for her. She was selfish, and she would enjoy this for as long as it lasted.

* * *

Sorting was downright terrifying, she clung to the boys, her hands grasped in each of theirs.Lee was already sorted, Gryffindor, much to the other’s joy. She was next. As she went through the crowd, she caught Charlie waving at her from his place at the table. She shot him a weak smile before hurrying up the steps to the stool where Professor McGonnagall waited.

The older witch looked down at her, her stern face forming a small smile, “Nice to see you again, Ms. Lupin.” The girl responded by ducking her head in embarrassment, “Hello, Professor.” She climbed on the stool, taking a quick glance at the crowd before blinded by darkness.

‘Ahhh, hello..’

The sorting hat, it was speaking to her, but it was all inside her head. Did that mean it could read her mind?

‘Yes child, I see everything. No worries, I will not divulge your secret. Just as I did not divulge your adopted father’s.’

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, feeling much more relieved.

‘Now, let us see. You have a very bright mind, very clever. But you are much too sensitive to be placed in the snake’s den.’

She scrunched her nose at that, why was everyone insinuating she was emotional? She had a very good grasp of her emotions.

‘Ah, a temper too. A well-known trait among Gryffindors, they tend to go forward very brazenly. But you do not seem the type to jump into danger without thinking..not unless..yes..’

What? What was he thinking? Also, she did not have a temper!

‘Not unless your friends are in danger, yes? You would not dare to harm a fly, unless it was someone who threatened those you care for. You would go farther than a Gryffindor, perhaps even maim.’

Before she could speak, he cut her off.

‘That’s not a thing to be ashamed of. You are protective of the ones you hold dear. The kind of love you would kill for. You are a companion many would want on their side. There is only one place I can put you. Your loyalty knows no bounds, so it better be..’

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table of yellow and black erupted in applause, the hat being lifted from her head so she could take them in. Her heart was pounding, head reeling from the sorting hat’s words. How could he see so deeply into her? Willing to kill?

As she reached them, she was pulled into a familiar embrace. The smell of bubblegum overtaking her senses and calming her, hugging the figure back, “Hello Tonks.”

“This is so wicked! I knew you were Hufflepuff material!”

They pulled apart, the older witch smiling proudly down at her, “I missed you so much, gal!” Cyra watched as her eyes unknowingly changed to the amber color of Cyra’s, “Thank you, I missed you too.” Tugged over to sit next to the sixth year, feeling the weight leave her shoulders as she felt safer having someone she knew there.

She felt her heart-break, watching both Fred and George heading over to the Gryffindor table. She knew this was likely going to happen, but it still hurt. She was grateful they sat next to Charlie, so they were still within her view.

As the food appeared, she waited for others to fill their plates, not wanting to be rude. Startled when a pile of potatoes was smacked on her plate, she looked up at Tonks who was holding the spoon. The witch simply smiled back, going to grab some food for herself. She supposed that was a nudge to get some food.

As she piled her plate with meat, she made sure to place some sides so she didn’t look suspicious. She was very ravenous. Moony had said she had an endless pit of a stomach, though he was just as bad. The man could devour a whole chocolate cake in one sitting. It was the high metabolism, one of the only benefits of being a werewolf.

She tried to limit herself, not wanting to seem suspicious. Though, after she got her second plate, she realized that no one was actually going to say anything. They didn’t seem to even notice the abnormal appetite. For the first time that day, she completely relaxed.

* * *

He shouldn’t enter, it would only hurt more. He had already eaten the cake she had left him, the entire thing. He probably should have paced himself, but he was depressed, and that was a good enough excuse.

Using that as an excuse again, he pushed open her bedroom door, scent of lavender surrounding him. His pup. That was his pup’s scent. Tearing up, he rushed over to her bed, grabbing a pillow so he could hug it to his chest and pretend she was still there.

He didn’t realize how much he needed her. How cold the house would be, without her warm laughter. Or how much he would cry. This was miserable, letting your child go. She was his little sunshine. If James were still here, he was sure he would be mocked now. Though James would be doing the same thing once Harry left.

Sirius would be there with him, comforting him and understanding, because he would know how much of a joy their daughter was. His throat bobbed uncomfortably, gripping the pillow as he realized where his thoughts just led him.

No. Cyra was not Sirius’s daughter. They did not raise her together. He lost that chance when he betrayed the Potter’s. Sniffling, he raised his sleeve to wipe at his eyes, he would rather be alone. He could only hope that Cyra would never know that pain, of being abandoned and betrayed by the person she was supposed to trust. Her own mate.

Looking around the room with red-rimmed eyes, he managed a weak smile, looking over all the pictures on the walls. She had grown up so fast. Something was missing, however. A space empty, the imprint still there.

“I thought I told her not to take it.”

* * *

“Who’s that?”

Cyra’s head swiveled around to her housemate, Sarah French, a muggle born first year. How did she not know of a muggle rocker? Hopping down from her bed, she admired Bon Jovi in his glory, pinned above her nightstand, “This is Jon Bon Jovi, or Bon Jovi for short. He’s a muggle rock star.”

The girl admired him, her cheeks turning a bit flushed, “Oh.. my parents never let me listen to rock music. Said it was the work of the devil.” Cyra turned to her with wide eyes, “How did they take you being a witch then?” Her response was a sad smile, “Not very well. They’re Christian, you see.” Cyra nodded in understanding, her father was one of those. He wasn’t as extreme, but he did have difficulty understanding her mom’s world.

Sighing to herself, she went over to Biscuit’s cage, unlatching it so he could roam free while she wrote her letter to Moony. She described her train ride, the sorting, and how Tonks had made her feel very comfortable in her new house. Which, she really did. It definitely was not as bad as she had expected. She was still waiting for the others to sleep before she could go for her bath, but no one questioned her on it.

Once the letter sent, she looked at Bon Jovi once again, admiring him in his handsomeness.

“His hair is too pretty to be the work of the devil.” 


	14. First Day

Tonks was kind enough to wait up for her that morning, guiding her through Hogwarts to the Great Hall. On the way, she explained where most of her classes would be, and some shortcuts she could take. She did her best to remember all of it, but knew that it would be no use.

As they entered, her gaze went over the red heads at the Gryffindor Table where their laughter echoed in the hall. She could see Percy turning red from something Charlie had said, his face beginning to scrunch up in anger. Beside him was the twins, poking and prodding at his shoulders to try and push him over the edge. Bill ignored the pleas of his brother, pretending to be distracted by his head boy badge.

“You could just go over there.”

Snapping out of her daze, she turned to Tonks, “What?” The teenaged witch gave her a knowing smile, “To the Gryffindor table? There’s no rules saying you can’t.” Sparing the table another glance, Cyra shook her head, “No..I don’t want to-“

“OI WEASLEYS! GOT ROOM FOR TWO MORE!?”

Too late. Tonks was now shouting across the hall, gathering the attention of the boys. Once they were waved over, Cyra was dragged over to the table by Tonk’s impressive strength. As they came to a halt, Cyra was stolen away by the twins, placed in between them at the table. She finally felt normal, the feeling of them pressed on each side giving her some comfort.

“How was your first night?”

She looked over to her left at Fred, smiling sweetly at him, “It was good.” George tugged on her arm, stealing her attention, “Was everyone nice to you?” She responded with a nod. They seemed to visibly relax. Were they worried about her? Before she could ask, the smell of the bacon that Fred placed on her plate made her stomach growl. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until now.

As they continued to chat her ears off, she began piling meat onto her plate. She still had a good two weeks before the next full moon, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t eat. She was a growing girl after all. Biting into her sausage, she listened to the conversations all around her. Tonks was joking around with Charlie, saving poor Percy from his torment, though it left him free to ramble to anyone who would listen. How he found the ministry so interesting was mind-boggling to her. It wasn’t even the fun stuff like what his dad did, but rather, he enjoyed _politics._ Tuning out of that immediately, she looked up at Fred, finally paying attention to what he was saying.

“So, we thought to ourselves, what would be better for our legacy?”

Licking the grease from her lips, she tilted her head in confusion, “What?” He shot her a look before motioning over to his brother, “George?” Spinning around to face him next, she saw the glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

“We’re going to get detention. Today.”

She was somehow even more confused, furrowing her brows at him, “Why?” Feeling Fred grab onto her shoulders, she didn’t bother to turn around as he whispered, “Because what better way to set our impressions than a detention on the first day?” She still wasn’t sure what impression they were trying to set.

“So,” She turned away from them both to face her plate, “What are you guys going to do?” She picked up a piece of toast, spreading some jam on top of it.

“You guys?”

“You mean, what are _we_ going to do?”

There it was. Cyra bit into her toast, trying to ignore both of their stares as she chewed. Of course, she was going to be an accomplice. As always. A part of her wished she just listened to Percy talk about Fudge’s campaign for Minister of Magic.

Taking her silence as her giving in, both boys cupped a hand over her ear before they began whispering their plans. The other Weasley brother’s took notice, but did nothing to save poor Cyra from their clutches.

Once the plan was discussed, and Cyra knew her part, she continued to eat her breakfast as if nothing was wrong. They were at least considerate to make sure _she_ wouldn’t get caught in this. Unlike them, she did not desire to have detention on her first day.

Tonks made eye contact with her, raising her pink brows with a cheeky grin. Pausing mid-chew, she stared back at her, confused why the teenager looked so pleased.

“Ah, there are my missing Hufflepuffs!”

Forcing herself to swallow her food, she turned around to see her Head of House, Professor Sprout. She was a very kind woman, always smiling and radiating this comforting feeling. Giving her a shy smile, she reached up to take her schedule, “Sorry Professor Sprout..” Professor Sprout gave her head a soft pat, “No worries, me dear! It’s good to fraternize, become friends with other houses!” Once Tonks got her schedule, she was off, trotting out of the hall.

Glancing down at the paper, it was a breath of relief to see she had at least two classes with the Gryffindors.

The twins shared a look before looking away, George choosing to speak first, “So, since we won’t be seeing you very much in class..” Cyra’s head perked up as he spoke, giving him her full attention. “Do you want to maybe sit with one of us in class?” 

Fred was next, picking up where he left, “I’ll already see his ugly mug in every other class. Might be nice to see a different face. We can trade off.” Cyra blocked George from hitting his brother, thinking about their words, “Trade off? Like.. you sit with me in one class. George sits with me in the other?”

Humming in agreement, they waited for her answer anxiously. Cyra was unable to resist a smile, “Yeah.. I’d like that.” 

“Great!”

“I call Herbology!”

“Okay- Wait! That’s our first class!”

Cyra decided to let George get his hit in this time, knowing there was no use stopping their quarrels once it began.

“I ought to hex your nose hairs blue!”

“Try it! I’ll make your feet huge! Or huger than they already are!”

Letting out a sigh, Cyra went back to her breakfast, disappointed that it was now cold.

* * *

Entering the Greenhouse, the first year’s eyes were wide with wonder at the flowers and plants that covered the walls of the classroom. Cyra felt she could tell which ones were Professor Sprout’s favorite, because an exact copy of them were in the Hufflepuff common room.

Coming to take a spot near the middle, Cyra ignored the argument between the Weasley brothers. After taking out her book, she slid her bag under the bench before sitting herself down. Soon she was joined by Fred, who just dropped his bag onto the table.

“Well this is nice, isn’t it?” He began, looking around at all of the plants, “Very.. green.” Cyra laughed, shaking her head at him, “Green? Really?” He smiled, not caring that she was laughing at him. Before he could retort, Professor Sprout entered.

Clapping her hands loudly, the classroom quietened down. Satisfied, she gave them all a bright smile, “Good morning class! I am so excited to see a fresh crop of little sproutlings! Welcome all to Herbology! If you do not know what that is, Herbology is the study of magical and mundane plants and fungi. Now I know what you must be thinking, ‘Plants? We’re learning about Plants?’”

Cyra couldn’t resist smiling at her Head of House, listening as she gave her speech.

“But no, my dear little sproutlings! For plants are much more useful than you’d think! Many plants provide ingredients for potions and medicine, like ones that you find brewed in Professor Snape’s class. Other’s have magical effects of their own that have many different uses. If placed in the wrong hands, they could cause some serious damage.” Her tone got a bit more serious at that part, looking around the room, “So we must be sure they are placed into the right hands. And to do that, we need to lay out the ground work! Fertilize the mind so we built our roots!”

With that, she turned to the table behind her, sliding a leather belt around her hips, “Now, do not take this course lightly. This is not a subject for those who are squeamish, so be prepared. Today, though, we will be going over your tools! Please turn to page 10 of your books, and we will read through them!”

Cyra opened her book with the class, turning through the papers till she reached the page. Professor Sprout took out a pair of gloves, holding them high above her head, “Let us begin with the protective tools, starting with, dragonhide gloves! Now, before I see any tears, these are humanely sourced. Only taken from dragons who passed away from natural causes.”

With that, a pair of dragonhide gloves appeared on top of each of their books. Cyra took hers with interest, looking them over as Professor Sprout continued, “Dragonhide is very tough, as well as being resistant to spells. Thanks to this toughness, it is perfect for using in Herbology, for anything that may burn or bite, it will not penetrate the hide.”

At that, she heard Fred mutter, “What’s going to bite us in Herbology?” Glancing over, she saw the little bit of fear enter his eyes. Taking the chance, she leaned in to whisper, “Funny you pay attention to what is going to bite us rather than what is going to _burn_ us?” At that, he shuddered, quickly sliding on his gloves.

“Next is your mask! Now, you won’t always need these, but it will help for those times when we are near any plants that will exude fumes or scents. Some may be noxious or even toxic, can be very harmful to your health.” Cyra watched Fred as the mask appeared before him, stifling her giggle as he quickly put it on. A quick glance over the table showed her that while George looked just as frightened, he wasn’t donning himself with the tools.

Class seemed to pass by very quickly as they went through the very many tools they would be using. They were notified to be sure to leave their ties and cloaks at the door, as it could become a hazard later. Cyra found it much harder to restrain her laughter as Fred was now tugging the tie desperately off of his head.

Once they were set with the task of reading the chapter of tools, Cyra placed her tools off to the side. She waited for Fred to calm down, opening her book and beginning to read. Once she heard the dragonhide gloves smack onto the table, she glanced over. He was flustered, his face red with embarrassment at his actions. He refused to look at her, his eyes turned down so his red hair covered his gaze.

“Fred?” She whispered quietly to him, trying to get his attention. But to no avail. Letting out a sigh, she scooted herself closer to him so her shoulder was pressed against his. Sliding the book over into his view, she tried once again, “Wanna share a book?” At that, she finally saw his face turn to hers, the mortification clear on his face. She pretended not to notice, smiling at him.

“Yeah.. I’ll turn the pages.”

With that, they settled into a peaceful silence, reading together until the end of class. George approached them with his bag tossed over his shoulder, “Okay! Enough hogging her! We’ve gotta get to Magical Theory!” Fred scoffed, taking his bag from the table before facing his twin, “Very well, you’re the one that has to wait until two thirty to sit beside her!”

“Not true! We’ll see her at lunch!”

“Ohhh, so just until twelve then. That’ll only be about two more hours!”

Ignoring them both, she packed up her things, hopping up from the bench to shuffle past them both. After a moment of deliberation, she turned back to give them each a hug, “See you both at lunch. Bye!” With that, she was off, leaving the brothers who were now silent.

* * *

It took a while for her to reach the Astronomy tower, once she reached the top, she was out of breath. She was confused why she was required to have a telescope with her, but she supposed it was for this class. Looking out at the bright sky, she felt her breath catch as she realized how beautiful the daytime was.

She had only really known the night. It was cruel, dark, but freeing. It was the bringer of torment, but also hid away the horrifying sights that the sun would only illuminate for the public.

“You’re Lupin, right?”

Dropping her telescope, she spun around in a panic, “W-What!?” There was a boy behind her, he was her age, golden brown hair and a shy smile. Bending down, he picked up the fallen scope, before handing it back to her in apology, “My bad, didn’t mean to spook you. I was going to speak to you during Herbology, but you were sitting with the Gryffindors.”

Seeing she was looking at him confused, he shoved his hand out to her, “Again, my bad! My name is Cedric Diggory! I’m a Hufflepuff, like you!” Cyra released the tension in her shoulders, she took his hand, “Cyra Lupin, though you already know my last name?” He seemed bashful at that, stepping back a bit, “Well..I mean, I just..you looked really cool during sorting.”

Cyra blinked at that, “Cool?” He then pointed up at his lip, “You’re.. well your..” At that, she touched her lips, feeling the jagged scar beneath her fingertips. “Oh,” Quieter now, she looked away, “Um..thank you.” Cedric watched her, realizing how rude he had come across, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know if it was something personal..”

“No.” She interrupted him, “No, it’s not. It’s a stupid story, really.” He seemed to take this a cue, “Well, hey, I’d love to hear it sometime! My dad always said that the ones with scars are considered warriors!” Cyra felt her lips turn up at that, she wasn’t sure she would be considered a warrior for losing focus on levitating a knife.

“Wanna sit together on the cushions? We’re supposed to be having class with the Ravenclaws, and they kind of intimidate me.” Cedric offered, motioning over to the silk cushions that sat on the stone flooring. Feeling much more comfortable around him than a stranger, she gave a quick nod, “Yes, I’d like that.”

Their teacher was much different than Professor Sprout, she was instead very stern, looking down at them with an all-knowing gaze. Once she spoke however, she was very calm, “Good morning, I am Professor Sinastra. Now, this is the only time you will be seeing my class in the daytime. From now on, you will be meeting here on Wednesdays at nighttime, so we may observe the stars. Today, however, we will be going over the basics.”

* * *

The rest of the morning seemed to go on like a blur, she spent her break with Cedric, listening to him as he chatted about how excited he was for their flying class. He was a huge Quidditch fan. Moony wasn’t a big sports fan, so she never really got into it. She still pretended to be listening to him, not wanting to be rude.

Once they reached the Dining Hall, however, she politely excused herself so she could join the Gryffindor table. Once she was in the space between the twins, she set about filling her plate, “How was Magical Theory?”  
  
“Who’s the pretty boy?”

It wasn’t often the boys spoke in unison around her, and it wasn’t often concerning to her. But the tone they both used, it was enough to make her put down the ladle and address them both. “I’m sorry, what?” She looked at Fred first, but his eyes were locked ahead. Deciding to try his brother next, she learned it was no help either, as he was just the same. Finally looking to where their gaze was, she put their words together.

“His name is Cedric.” She answered, taking note that they seemed to be radiating more heat than usual. George was the first to look at her, the frown clear on his face, “And what is he?” She understood immediately this time, smiling sweetly, “A friend.” Hearing the scoff behind her, she whirled around, waiting for Fred’s smart response. However, he said nothing, staring back at her.

“He’s a friend.” She repeated again, though she now was the one frowning. Fred fought to keep his face calm, but his ears were already turning red with frustration. “Just a friend?” He started, his eyes narrowing at her.

Okay, now she was very confused. What did he mean by that? Cedric was her friend. Just like they were hers. Deciding it would be better to simply settle the matter, she replied, “Yes. Just a friend.”

While this seemed to be a satisfying answer, they were still looking unhappy. Cyra looked away from them both, “I’m sorry.” At that, she went back to filling her plate. She didn’t like upsetting the twins. She hated it when they went quiet. It always caused her to blame herself, gave enough time for the inner voice to remind her of her worth. How she was very lucky that the twin’s cared so much for her. 

Trying to hold back the tears, she took in a shuddering breath, plating the potatoes quickly. As the silence grew between the three, the great hall was still lively. The air felt like it was suffocating her, cutting off her airways. She was awful. She should just be happy with the boys. They were all she ever needed. They probably felt like she was replacing them. She upset them.

As the thoughts grew louder, she became more reclused into herself. She didn’t notice the worried look the twins shared. Even as they tried whispering to her, it didn’t enter her world. She felt their touch, her body anchoring itself to them as they wrapped their arms tightly around her.

“We’re sorry..hey..”

“We were being prats, that wasn’t fair to you.”

She sat there, her body trembling against theirs. She was making a scene, and she hated it. Usually, she could retreat back to her room at the cabin, but now she was out in the open for others to see. The curtains were pulled back. She missed Moony.

She couldn’t tell which one of their hands was running through her hair, but it was bringing her back down. She felt like a mess. Another hand soon joined, carefully scratching at her scalp. That had to be Fred. She remembered the time she had to get her leg snapped back into place, and he scratched at her scalp to distract her.

Feeling fingers carefully tuck her curls behind her ear, she choked back another sob as she recognized it as George. She didn’t want others to see her cry. He seemed to understand that, turning her quickly so he could hug her to his chest, hiding her face from the world.

Fred was whispering something into her ear, it was comforting, though she still couldn’t distinguish what he was saying.

No one looked at her, and if they noticed, they simply thought she was homesick. It was very normal for some first years to cry. Once she was back to reality, she tried to pull away, but the boys refused to let her. Instead, George held her close while Fred filled up her plate with different meats and her favorite sides. Cyra felt like a child, though she didn’t speak up. As each of them held her hands, she realized she was unable to eat.

They had noticed, but instead of letting go, tried a different technique. Cyra’s eyes widened when George picked up her fork with his free hand. Absolutely not. That was where she drew the line. Taking her hands away, she carefully took the fork, “I can feed myself.” He seemed disappointed, but didn’t object.

Since they couldn’t hold hands, they decided to saddle up right beside her, almost squishing her between their shoulders. Deciding to let them have this, to let _her_ have this, she just began to eat.

* * *

Potions was definitely a very intimidating event, Cyra witnessed for the first time how terrifying Professor Snape could be. She had to keep correcting herself in her head not to call him Mr. Snape when she spoke. It was going to be a hard habit to break. Hagrid didn’t seem to mind when she called him it at the boats, but she knew better to address the Professors by their titles.

“I don’t want to hear at the end of this class that you do not know how to chop, mince, or crush your ingredients. The very basics of Potions is this. I will not have you brewing any kind of concoction until you can steady your hands and adjust temperature without burning your fingertips.”

Cyra listened intently, feeling a little bit excited as he taught, she always loved to play on her play potions set. It was just like baking. When Professor Snape had passed her table, he gave her a quick glance, before moving on to the next.

Once they were set with the instructions, she snatched up her scalpel and began cutting to the instructions on the book. They were currently working with wax forms, practicing their cutting before they moved on to the next thing. It was just like cutting baking chocolate.

She prepared her first one in the cuts the book demanded, forcing herself to take her time so it was perfect. Next wax form was to be minced, then other was to be crushed into a powder. Soon she finished, placing her cutting board before her, her chest swelling with pride.

As she looked around the room, she noticed others were struggling. One student slammed the knife down on the board, sending the wax form flying through the air. Professor Snape stormed over to them, his eyes baring down into their souls, “If you wish to lose your fingers, please attempt that somewhere else besides my classroom. I do not have the time to clean your blood from my floors. Nor the patience that you so obviously lack.”

Oh dear. Cyra felt her gut clench as he turned around to her next, stomping over to her desk. Picking up the board, he examined it with a straight face. Swallowing thickly, she waited, looking up at him worried. Once their eyes met, Professor Snape stared stoically, his eyes sharp like a knife.

“Well. A Hufflepuff who isn’t useless. That’s a first.” 

Was that a compliment? She simply waited as he placed down her board, whipping out his wand and vanishing her work, “Now, work on a beetle. It’ll be a different texture, take your time.” At that, he turned around, “The beetles will be on the shelf, bottom left, take out three and then return to your desk.”

She followed his commands, her stool squeaking against the stone floors as she stood up. She walked quietly over to the shelf, her heart pounding within her chest. Was she doing a good job? She couldn’t actually tell.

When class had finished, he had yet to review her beetles. As the other students packed up, she was unsure if she should leave as well. They filed out quickly, leaving just her and the Potions Master. After a moment of silence, he spoke, “Bring it over to my desk.” At that, she hopped up, walking carefully over to his desk. She didn’t want to drop the board and spill out her work. Once it was placed, she let out a breath of relief.

Professor Snape looked up from the parchment he was grading, looking over her board with a raised brow. Cyra awkwardly stood before the desk, shuffling her feet as she waited. His gaze was just the same, piercing and judging.

“It seems..” He began, “Your hobby of baking has paid off.” At that, she furrowed her brows, looking at him in surprise. Did that mean she did it? He looked up at her with a solemn gaze, “It’s a shame you can’t brew your own wolfsbane.”

With a gasp, her legs went weak and gave out beneath her. Grabbing onto the desk to steady herself, she quickly stammered, “I-I’m sorry?” He watched her, his eyes piercing into her, “Are you apologizing for being a werewolf?”

She felt the tears form beneath her eyes, letting go of the desk and letting herself slip to the ground. This was it. Her first day. It was fun while it lasted. Sniffling, she brought her sleeve to wipe her eyes, too terrified to speak.

“Greyback did it?”

She said nothing, her silence giving him the answer he was looking for. Letting out a sigh, he pushed his chair closer to the desk to look over it, “Enough moping, Ms. Lupin. Headmaster Dumbledore told me.” He what? Looking up at him quickly, she blinked back the tears, “W-What?”

His gaze seemed to soften as he looked down at her, “He told the staff about this. So we will be able to excuse not only the nights you are gone, but also to help you.” Standing up, he went over to the locked cabinets behind him, “I brought up wolfsbane not to shame you, but to surprise you. Professor Dumbledore has stocked my cabinets with plenty of ingredients so I will be able to brew you wolfsbane each week before the full moon.”

Cyra watched as he took out a vial with shimmering blue liquid, “Wolfsbane?” That was impossible. Moony had tried to get his hands on the ingredients after it had been invented, but they were ridiculously expensive.

He brought the vial over for her to observe, placing it carefully in her hands, “You will take this every night before the full moon. It will allow you to be in control of yourself even after transformation.” As she looked at it in awe, he continued, “Professor Sprout will guide you out of your common room the night of, and escort you to the Whomping Willow. There you will stay for the night, and since Professor McGonagall only has evening classes, she will be the one to escort you back. From there on, if you have any injuries, you will be brought to Madam Pomfrey to be treated. Then you may be excused to rest for the day if you wish.”

Cyra was hanging on to every word, looking from him to the potion in her hand, “I-I..” It was plucked out of her hands, before being placed back into the cabinet, “It will not be tasty. You cannot mix it with anything or else it will not work.”

She could only nod, sitting on the stone floor in shock, “So..everyone knows?” Professor Snape stared down at her, “The Staff, yes. No students know, if you are worried about the Weasleys finding out.” She couldn’t believe this. They had all treated her so normally. How could they be so nice?

“Now, don’t you start crying again! I’ve had enough of sobbing first years for one day. Just gather yourself and head to your next class, I believe Professor McGonagall will be wondering where you are.”

Realizing she was going to be late, she quickly gathered herself from the floor, “Right! Sorry!” As she went to hurry out the door, a parchment was blocking her gaze.

“A permission slip. She will know what we spoke about.”

She thanked him, smiling brightly as she stormed out of the classroom.

* * *

Professor McGonagall wasn’t mad at all for her being late, taking the slip with a knowing smile before shooing her to her seat with George.

Once she was settled in, he questioned her, “What happened? You missed the first ten minutes!” She turned to speak, before she realized she couldn’t actually tell him what was going on. Coming up quickly with an excuse, she blurted out, “Professor Snape said I was gifted at potions. Gave me some extra work to do.”

He looked shocked at that, “He did? He was right nasty to all of us this morning. I don’t think anyone was anything more than ‘importunate buffoons’.” She gave him a pitying smile, “I’m sorry.” He shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. After all, Fred and I were the ones who tried to play daggers with the scalpels.” Her eyes widened, no longer feeling sorry for her friends, but instead for Professor Snape.

As McGonagall went over the basics of Transfiguration, Cyra found herself too distracted to pay attention. George was scribbling something frantically on a piece of paper, taking a moment to pause before scratching it out and then beginning again. Curious, she looked over casually, attempting to read his messy scribbles.

Squinting her eyes so she could see, she whispered to him, “Does that say something to do with a toilet?” He spared a glance to Professor McGonagall to be sure she wasn’t looking, before scooting himself closer to Cyra. Sliding the paper over so she could see, he whispered back, “We’re adjusting the plans a bit. Instead of doing something that could get you caught, we’ve changed the destination to the second-floor girl’s lavatory.”

Capable of reading the paper, she let her eyes skim over it, “So..you’re going to be stealing the toilet seats?” He gave an affirmative nod. She resisted the urge to scold him, pushing the paper back, “What are you going to do with them after?”

“We’re going to owl them to Dumbledore at dinner.”

Before she could stop it, her loud laugh gained the attention of the class. Feeling the eyes on her, she forced herself to sit upright, noticing Professor McGonagall was staring as well. “Well,” The Professor began, “What, Ms. Lupin, is so humorous about Mr. Hewett being stuck as a frog due to incorrect transfiguration?”

“Uhm-“ She swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the pressure as it built on her, “Well, that at least he didn’t croak?” A few giggles came from the students, but Professor McGonagall was still sternly staring her down, “Right. Well, perhaps we should be a bit more serious when discussing life threatening issues, and save the puns for later.” As she turned away, Cyra caught the small smile the Professor tried to hide.

As they continued, Cyra opened up her book, attempting to at least pay attention this time. But to no avail, as a piece of paper was tossed onto the pages. Shooting a quick glare at George, she snatched it up quickly, unraveling it to reveal the message.

‘When class ends, we all meet by the lavatory. You’ll be the lookout.’

Being sure no one was watching; she scribbled her response back before tossing it over to him.

‘Understood.’

At that, they worked in silence, keeping up the image of being model students. Or at least, Cyra was.

* * *

Cyra shuffled her feet as she looked around the halls, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. She had no reason to be so nervous, she couldn’t smell anyone approaching. Still, she was an accomplice to breaking a school rule. Though, to be fair, she didn’t know if this even _was_ in the school rule book. Leave it to the Weasley Twins to create a new one.

Pushing her hand on the door, she cracked it open a bit, whispering, “Are you guys almost done?” The door was then thrust open, revealing them both soaked to the bone, with identical mischievous grins. Looking over them with wide eyes, she took in their states before speaking, “Um..Myrtle?” They did not need to give a response, the girlish giggle that echoed from within answered her question.

Before she could speak again, she was presented with two toilet seats, held in the hands of the boys as if they were trophies. “Okay!” She clapped her hands before snatching up her bag from the ground, “You guys go change and mail those, I’m going to go on inside.” At that, they took her hands, shaking them firmly before rushing off.

Cyra looked down at her wet hands, before wiping them on the wall with a shudder.


End file.
